


Somewhere Only We Know

by poorwayfairingstranger



Category: 1917 - Fandom
Genre: Coming Out, Double Date, First Kiss, Hamlet - Freeform, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Shotgunning, Slow Burn, Teenage AU, Teenagers, Theatre, Treehouses, dey do be in a play doh, homoerotic undertones yktv, idk i might add more tags teehee, making pies togtether, they smoke weed, tom is hamlet, tw for abuse, will is horatio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26501392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poorwayfairingstranger/pseuds/poorwayfairingstranger
Summary: After an unlikely meeting during history class, Tom convinces Will to audition for the fall play, Hamlet. They grow close and gay people do gay people things idk
Relationships: Lauri (1917)/Original Female Character(s), Tom Blake/William Schofield, William Schofield/Thomas Blake
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! 
> 
> So.... this longfic yeah....
> 
> Whoo boy has that been a journey...
> 
> Thank you to all the people on the discord who hyped me up and help me come up with this idea i love you all. Special thanks to jamie for betaing this fic (i know it wasnt easy KJFDHFJ he a long boy)
> 
> hhhhhh im awkward with this stuff idk what to say other than enjoy
> 
> (and spencer pls dont bark too much)

William Schofield’s mind ran with anxious thoughts as he walked into his first history class. The first four weeks of class, he was forced into a low level history class, a mistake on his schedule which had never been fixed. Even though he had requested this change, it hadn’t successfully processed until now. Will’s hands shook slightly as he walked into this new classroom. New faces looked up at him, and his hands shook harder under their stares. He sat down at a random desk, took out his history journal and a no. 2 pencil, and waited for the teacher to start class. 

The bell rang loudly, and a final student rushed into the classroom, plopping down next to Will. The boy had wavy brown hair, very unkempt and needing to be cut. His blue eyes darted around the classroom, reading the whiteboard and trying to watch the teacher at the same time. He opened his backpack and pulled out a folder. Pages fell out of it, littering the ground around their desks. Will scoffed, but leaned down and helped pick them up. 

“Thank you, Mr. Schofield.” Leslie turned to Will. His eyes moved from Will to Tom, tutting at the more unkempt boy.” I hope you are more organized tomorrow, Mr...” He trailed off, waiting for one of them to fill in the name. 

“Blake. Er- Thomas Blake. Tom, Mr. Leslie.” The boy said, chuckling nervously. At the sound of the teacher's name, a few students in the class groaned. 

Mr. Leslie smiled ominously. “Now, you boys are new in this classroom, yes? You don’t know how I operate. You call me Lieutenant Leslie, understood? Those medals over there,” He pointed above his desk with a yardstick, where a framed medal of honor hung. “I earned those medals myself. You may not know this, boys, but I fought in the first world war.”

Next to him, Will heard Tom laughing along with a few quiet giggles of their classmates. Will was too scared of Mr. Lesl- Lieutenant Leslie to do anything but sit and stare. 

“Laugh it up, Mr. Blake,” Leslie snapped, “But you will not be pleased to know that there were soldiers more organized than you. Alive in 1917 and not acting like a blubbering fool.”

At that, Tom went silent, his cheeks turning red with embarrassment. 

“Right then, on with class.” Leslie turned around and started writing on the board, leaning on the yardstick. Will copied down what he was saying, only being interrupted when Tom reached over and tapped his shoulder.

“Oi, what’re we doin’?” he asked, gathering up his papers. 

“Taking notes,” Will said, matter of factly. He didn’t want to get in trouble, so he turned back to his notes. 

“D’you mind if I have a piece of paper? Left my book at home,” Tom whispered loudly. Will nodded, then turned to give him a sheet of paper. 

Leslie slapped the yardstick against the board, a loud crack coming from it.“Mr. Schofield, since you seem to have free time to talk I assume you know the answer to my question?” Leslie raised his eyebrows, a sly grin on his lips. 

“No, si-“ He was cut off by Tom interrupting him. 

“The main places of armor on the survivorship bias statistic experiments were the cockpit, the engine, and the tail,” Tom said quickly. Will looked up in surprise, wondering how he knew the answer so quickly. Tom winked at him.

“If you’re smart enough to know that, you should be calling them by their names, Mr. Blake. Aft fuselage, inboard wing, nose, and cowling,” Lieutenant Leslie said, smiling slightly. “But good job, son.”

Tom and Will let out synced sighs of relief. Will looked over at Tom, whose face broke out into a wide smile. 

“How can I repay you?” Will whispered once Leslie’s back was turned again, keeping his eyes trained on the teacher so as to not have a replay of the previous situation. 

“Come to auditions for Hamlet. The theatre department is putting it on. Auditions are in two days.” Tom invited, and reached into the mess of papers to pull out a flyer. “See you there.” With a wink, he handed Will the flyer before turning back to his notes. Will felt his ears getting hot, a habit he had when he got flustered or nervous. He chuckled quietly before turning back to his work.

-

Will lay against the wall his bed was pushed against, bagel in one hand and flyer in the other. Why the fuck had he agreed to do this? He had never in his life acted in front of someone, didn’t even know how an audition was supposed to work. He started reading the flyer: audition date, time, place. 

“Please prepare one monologue from a Shakespeare show and perform it in front of the director,” Will read. He liked Shakespeare, had quite a few of his works, but never acted any of them out. 

Will walked over to his large bookshelf, scanning his options. Unable to decide, he closed his eyes and picked at random. ‘Coriolanus’ was the one he chose. Will knew immediately which monologue he would choose. He took a bite of his bagel proudly, re-reading what he was going to prepare. That night after he was supposed to have gone to bed, Will got out his flashlight and read the monologue over and over again, memorizing it. He marked where he would pause, where he would sigh, where he would speed up. He went to sleep with thoughts of the audition, and surprisingly, Tom. 

-

Two days later, Will was standing in front of the auditorium doors, waiting to go in. Partly because of the nerves of being a newcomer, and partly because he wanted to wait for Tom. 

Will couldn’t describe the infatuation he had with the boy from the moment he met Tom. Something about him just drew them together. ‘Like fate,’ Will thought, before becoming embarrassed and pushing the thought away. 

A group of boys laughing disruptively in the hallway across the auditorium led Will’s gaze away, and he saw Tom. He was surrounded by four boys and one girl. A tall boy with deep red hair, about a head above Tom, said something and the group laughed. Next to him stooda short boy with dirty blond hair; he was small and angry, being the butt of the joke, Will assumed. About as tall as the first boy, one with dark skin and a head turban stood quietly behind them, not really engaging with the group's shenanigans. There was another boy, his eyes bright and a smile on his face. The last member was a girl. Her frizzy brown curls were stuffed under a black beanie, flowing over her shoulders. She wore a large hoodie, chewing on one of the strings. Dark oversized basketball shorts hung loosely on her hips, falling past her knees. 

“Hey, Will!” Tom came sprinting over. “Will, meet my friends. We have Mr. James Rossi, my mate Charlie Cooke, the stage manager-Mahesh Jondalar, god herself Lauri Villars, and finally the one and only microphone handlin’ Malky.” The group offered their assorted hello’s before Tom was off talking again, arm wrapped around Will. “Willy right here, it’s his firs’ time doin’ anythin’ like this. Right, man?”

Will nodded, nervousness apparent on his face. Tom squeezed his shoulder lightly. Everyone looked so confident and excited. Will gripped his Coriolanus book to his chest before entering the auditorium. 

It was really quite bland. A stage painted black, red curtains hanging on the left and right, cushioned seats sitting in rows. Most of the group was sitting in the front rows, around thirty people. Will tried to turn around, to get away from all those people, but Tom just leaned in close and whispered words of encouragement. The group sat together, filling half a row. The director, Mrs. Wilson was greeting everyone and making small talk with her students. After a few minutes the trickle of students stopped, and she stood up to give her pre-audition speech. 

“Welcome everyone!” Ms.Wilson clapped her hands together and smiled brightly. “Now, I’m so happy you're all here, so many of you. I see a few new faces so I’ll explain how this will work. By order of rows you will each stand up on the stage and do a slate. This is you saying your name, grade level, and what monologue you will be performing. Then just go ahead and start.” She searched around at the hesitant faces in the crowd.” Don’t be nervous, we are all here to support each other. There will be no negativity about yourself or anyone else in this room, understood?” She finished and sat down a few rows back, clipboard in hand. She gestured to the first row.

“Jamie, you’re up first, then Spencer, so on and so forth.” Mrs. Wilson said. 

Jamie walked up to the stage confidently and stated she would be doing the Lady Macbeth monologue from Macbeth. Next to him, Tom scoffed. Apparently this was a popular choice when it came to female monologues. Will just watched as she rubbed at the invisible spot on her hand, growing more panicked and pacing more quickly. Clawing her hands through her short brown hair during the final lines made it odd when she snapped out of character, the disheveled hair out of place on her kind face. She smiled as she walked off stage, giving Spencer a quick high five. 

Tom whispered to James and Charlie through Spencer’s monologue, but Will listened intently. He paid attention to the way Spencer picked a spot in the back of the room to look at and talk towards as if there was a character there. He spoke in such a precise, rhythmic fashion you could tell he had a passion for Shakespeare, that he’d read and done his research. His voice rose and fell in all the right places, crescendoing at the most emotional part before immediately going quiet again as the character reeled their emotions back in. 

Will sat like that the entire time, silently watching and storing the names to match with faces. Pavel, a dark haired boy who was talented but quiet, Maddie, a tall girl who was a bit over enthusiastic about her comedy monologue (Will appreciated it), and Wally, a new boy who didn’t really know what he was doing but had a huge smile the whole time. 

Will liked all of them, he felt like he really fit in with this group of people. 

His hands started to shake again when his row started going up. Despite her masculine way of dressing, Lauri played a wonderful Juliet. Cooke unsurprisingly played up his comedic value, reading as Orlando from As You Like It. He looked over at his friends while delivering the monologue, as a comedian would while doing it a bit. 

The list went down, Rossi, Malky, then Tom. 

Tom read as Puck from a Midsummer Night’s Dream. Will smiles when Tom says the character's name. Midsummer was always Will’s favorite show. The mystic and magical vibe always made him feel relaxed, and the humor of the show made him feel at home. Tom took on the physical stature of the fairy, lowering his shoulders and raising his eyebrows, leaning in as if this was some secret. Tom’s accent dropped as he accentuated the consonants. He made eye contact with Will again and winked. God, why does he keep doing that? Will’s ears and face go warm. He excuses it as Tom being in character and unfortunate timing. Though he does give himself time to hope. 

That time is cut short by Tom plopping back beside Will, nudging him. It was Will’s turn now. Slowly, he made his way up to the stage, focusing on not tripping on the stairs or his shoe laces. Standing center stage, Will made the mistake of looking directly up at the lights. He cursed quietly before squinting into the crowd, adjusting to the lights and their stares. 

“Hello, my name is Will Schofield. I’m in year twelve, and I will be reading Aufidius’ monologue from Coriolanus.” He paused, running his tongue quickly against his bottom lip before starting. “Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart  
A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter   
Should from yond cloud speak divine things,  
And say 'Tis true,' I'ld not believe them more  
Than thee, all noble Coriolanus.” His voice rose as he went through the words, surprised he remembered all of them. 

“Let me twine  
Mine arms about that body, where against  
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke   
And scarr'd the moon with splinters: here I clip  
The anvil of my sword, and do contest  
As hotly and as nobly with thy love  
As ever in ambitious strength I did  
Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,   
I loved the maid I married; never man  
Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here,” 

A beat. He knew what was coming next. He tore his eyes away from the stage door they were locked on, looking down at Tom. The boy wasn’t whispering to his friends or laughing. Not even so much as a smile, his mouth only hung open slightly, a gleam in his eyes Will had yet to see. He kept their eyes locked. Neither of them looked away.

“Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart  
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw  
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell thee,”

Dreading to drop his gaze from Tom, Will holds his gaze a bit longer before scanning the crowd. He felt like he was there, talking to these people, trying to convince them they held power. 

We have a power on foot; and I had purpose  
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,  
Or lose mine arm fort: thou hast beat me out  
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since  
Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me;   
We have been down together in my sleep,  
Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat,  
And waked half dead with nothing.” 

He breathed out, surprised at how much he’d poured into the performance. A quick glance back at Tom showed the boy's face still in awe, like he had never seen anyone perform before. Will smiled with pride. 

Maybe this was fate.


	2. Chapter 2

“I can't believe it! Today is the day!” Tom whispered excitedly, sitting down next to Will during the first period of the school day. He fiddled with the hair on the nape of his neck, which was growing longer. He had commented on needing a haircut, but Will liked it. He surprised himself by his longing for the ability to run his fingers through Tom’s hair. It looked soft. 

“Yeah I’m surprisingly nervous,” Will whispered as Leslie started class, starting off with some World War One story that he would somehow relate to his lesson for the day. It was a daily thing, and the class seemed to enjoy it. Will was doing good in the class, he always had loved history. He felt connected to it in some way, but could never pinpoint why. And, as unorganized as Tom was, he was passing the class with almost as good of grades as Will had. Almost. 

They listened to the lecture, writing down notes. Each day of the class when having to take notes, one boy will jot down the brief ideas, and the other will write more in-depth notes. Then, at the treehouse after school, the one who took the brief notes copies the in-depth ones, and they discuss what they learned. Usually the discussions turn into jokes and stories, but it works for the two of them. Today was Will’s day to relax- or rather, today was his day to briefly jot down notes and zone out for an hour. He looked over at Tom, pretending to read the poster behind him like he always did. But he wasn’t looking at the tacky HISTORY acrostic poem that Mr. Leslie had up there ‘for the joke’ (whatever that meant), no he was looking over at Tom. His light brown hair, a single strand loose from the rest of his brushed back hair. The way his tongue stuck out of his mouth as he concentrated, his hand flying across the paper as he wrote down the notes in his usual chicken scratch handwriting. 

Will had always had time at home, time to be bored because he had no siblings or friends to talk to. So in grade 9 he had perfected his handwriting. The compliments he got from teachers almost made Will feel better about the amount of time he spent on perfecting the crosses of the t’s or the humps of the m’s, but it always made him feel lonely. Although, as much as Will loved Tom’s careless demeanor and free personality, he wished Tom’s handwriting was a little neater. For his own sake, and definitely not any other reason.

Not because the way Tom would always lean over the table to check the word Will was asking him to translate from his messy scrawl, putting his hand on Will’s back or his shoulder to steady himself would make Will’s stomach drop. Not because Tom’s delicate fingers dancing over the page or running though his hair made Will’s heart flutter. And definitely not how Will’s attention was drawn from copying the notes, watching Tom mouth the words of the book or script he was reading, staring until Tom noticed and asked if there was another word he needed help deciphering. No, he just wanted Tom’s handwriting to be neater. 

He watched as Tom’s eyes moved up and down in concentration, from the paper, up to the whiteboard, down to his paper. Will’s eyes traveled down Tom’s neck, where his fingers were playing with his growing hair. He had a pattern, comb his fingers through his hair twice, then drum on the back of his neck for a few seconds, repeat. The slightly wrinkled white shirt matched with a dark teal, almost green jacket was something so simple, but something Will didn’t think he would be able to pull off. He thinks that Tom could wear anything and it would suit him. Will thinks this a lot.

“Are you distracted by something- or rather, someone, Mr. Schofield?” Mr. Leslie asked loudly and the whole class turned to look at him. 

“No- no, sir.” Will fumbled, turning back to his paper.

After a moment of silence, Mr. Leslie asked, “Well then, what was so distracting? Will I have to separate you and Mr. Blake? Are you in preschool? Do you want me to wipe your arse too?” 

Will could tell this was something Leslie enjoyed, but he was quite embarrassed. His face got hot, and he ducked his head down to pretend to be taking notes. He always hated when his mum and dad embarrassed him, which they did quite a lot, and he hated it more when teachers did it. Nothing like getting called an idiot in front of your peers to make you passionate about learning. 

Class ended and Will bee-lined it to the door, not bothering to put his notebook or papers away. Tom caught up with him after a few seconds, fumbling with his backpack. 

“What an ass,” was all he said. Will hummed in agreement. Sensing that Will didn’t want to talk about it, Tom changed the subject. “Cast list should be out in a bit. Meet me by the auditorium after next class, yeah?”

Will agreed, and they parted ways. The hour long class stretched on, even though he loved English. A knot in his stomach combined of nervousness about the cast list, the embarrassment of the previous class, and how flustered Will got just thinking about Tom overwhelmed Will, and he couldn’t focus. Will knew he needed to get his mind off Tom, but he couldn’t think about how. 

-

Before he knew it, he was walking down the hallway squished in between Tom and his friends. They blabbered loudly about jokes and stories, seemingly switching subjects every 2 seconds. Will couldn’t keep track of what they were talking about, and only joined in whenever he heard laughter. They approached a large group of people crowding around a doorway. He saw people he recognized from the audition. Spencer, Jamie, Alex. They all chatted excitedly, looking for their names on the cast list. After pushing their way to the front of the line, the cast list read as such.

HAMLET- DIR. BY KRYSTY WILSON  
Hamlet- Tom Blake- u.s. Spencer Andrews  
Horatio- Everett Angel- u.s. Will Schofield  
Claudius- Charles “Charlie” Cooke- u.s. Wally Hansen  
Gertrude- Sara Lawson- u.s. Paula Tapia  
Ophelia- Lauri Villars- u.s. Jamie Evans  
Polonius- Fritz Baumer  
Rosencrantz- Patrick Parry  
Guildenstern- Francis Atkins  
Laertes- James Rossi  
Osric- Arthur Kilgour

Stage Manager- Mahesh Jondalar  
Sound/Microphones- John Malky

Tom leapt up and down excitedly, grabbing onto Will’s shoulders. “Oh my god mate! You did it! You fuckin’ did it! We did it!” the group of boys cheered for each other, each person reading off the character they were cast as. A huge smile spread across Will’s face and didn’t leave until he got home.

Once in the privacy of his room, he danced around, holding his Hamlet script. He dramatically held up his daily bagel, like one would hold a skull when reciting the iconic “to be or not to be” monologue. Will didn’t think he’d been happier in his entire life. He’d get to spend more time with Tom, and get to do something he had surprisingly enjoyed. He pushed out the thought of having to tell his parents, knowing they wouldn’t be happy. For now, he celebrated his victory. Then got to work on his homework, as always.

-

The first days of rehearsal for the play were more boring than Will had hoped for. They started out in a group, sat at a table, introducing themselves and saying what roles they played. Will didn’t talk much during the rehearsal, as he was an understudy. The first two days they read through the script, the director stopping them every few minutes to tell her ideas for a scene or giving background for a line.

It may have been a blessing that Will didn’t read at all, as he was too infatuated with Tom and the way he spoke and the way he moved. He used his hands expressively, switching the script between his right and left hand. He was obviously familiar with the play and the role, knowing the rhythm of each scene and the crescendos of certain lines. He knew it better than anyone, like the back of his hand. Will just watched him, trying not to be too obvious. But he didn’t have to worry about that, everyone in the room was enthralled in Tom’s performance. 

The final day of rehearsals, Friday, Mrs. Wilson took the cast out onto the stage, the auditorium they were in before. Without the bright lights in his face, Will could see how grand it all is. Or rather, grand for his standards. He’s never been in a real theater like this before. The seats now sat empty, but Will could imagine people filling them. Watching them, all eyes on him. His parents in one area, Tom’s parents in another. It would be perfect. 

But for now, he had to deal with the empty seats. Mrs. Wilson started talking.

“Today we are going to do team bonding.” Mixed reactions of excitement and guilt rose from the crowd. Will stood silent and Tom just wore a smile on his face. She started matching them in pairs, starting with an easy task: have a 3 minute conversation with your partner and tell the rest of the cast a few basic things about them. Of course, Tom and Will got matched with each other.

“This one’ll be easy.” Tom smiled, crossing his legs in front of himself. The pairs sat spread amongst the stage, talking across to one another.

“I know your name, your grade level. Tell me more about you,” Will requested.

“Well, my brother Joe and I, this one time we accidentally created shrapnel-”

“About your personal life, dumbass. Though I do want to hear the rest of this story,” Will laughed.

“Oh, well I have a brother named Joe. He’s nineteen and living away at university. Lucky bastard. So now ’s just me and my mum. We live on a cherry orchard a wee bit away from here. Long walk, a few miles. What else…what else-” he paused and rubbed his chin, trying to think of what else he could come up with. “Oh! Winnie the Pooh is my favorite character. My brother's name is Joe, and I always called him Joey when I was little. One day we were readin’ Winnie the Pooh and I learned that a baby kangaroo is called a joey. And there’s this character called Roo, a little baby kangaroo. So ever since then we’ve called my brother ‘roo’.” Tom was smiling but his eyes were sad, and Will could tell that he missed his brother a lot. “Anyway, talk about you.”

“Well, I’m Will, I don’t have any brothers or sisters, no pets, and I like to read. That’s pretty much it,” he answered simply. No funny story to tell, no friends to talk about.

“Nothing? Do’ya have a best friend?” Will shook his head. “No favorite shows to watch on the telly?” He shook his head again. “What’s your favorite book then?”

He had to ponder over the question. “I don’t think I could choose, though I do like classics. Now tell me about that shrapnel story?” he asked, sounding as perplexed as he was.

“Oh right- well one day me an’ Joe are home alone, right? I’m... eight and he’s eleven. One of the first times my mom has trusted us alone. Jokes on her, we still got in trouble. Well we are fixin’ ourselves some soup, one of those that comes in a metal can. We’re eatin’ and I see that look that Joe got sometimes when he had an idea. Little did I know this idea was bad. He’s looking at the soup can, then goes into one of the closets over on the far side of the house, the one in our mum’s room. Pulls out this big box, and finds a few fireworks. Real small ones, but one’s he knows are real powerful. Somehow he convinces me to go outside with him and these fireworks.” 

Tom moved his hands around rapidly, something always did while telling stories. “Now we’re standin’ out there, he tells me to put the fireworks in this tin while he finds a lighter. And he’s my big brother, I’m eight, I didn’t know any better. I put the explosives in the can and Joe lights it. We put some sort of covering over the top before the fuse blew, and Joe chucked it in the air. Obviously it exploded, and it was one of the loudest sounds I’ve ever heard. Like a- like a gunshot happening right next to your ear. It blows up- metal flies everywhere. Joe was fine, but I got a cut right above my eyebrow,” 

He points to the scar, something Will hadn’t noticed before. I wouldn’t have been that noticeable unless you were looking for it. “Well luckily me mum got home at that moment, thought there was someone with a bloody gun out back. She comes back and sees me covered in blood with metal shards everywhere and Joe standin’ there in shock. Well she had a right go at us, yellin’, screamin’ all the way to the hospital. She just wanted to get some groceries! Joe got a good whoopin’ after that, and I would have too, if not for the stitches. So…yeah that’s how my brother and I created shrapnel by accident.”

Will laughed, completely perplexed with how stupid Tom and his brother could have been. “How do you even-”

He was cut off by Mrs.Wilson saying their time is up. They rejoined in a circle and started telling the group their facts.

“Well my buddy Will, here. He’s quite interestin’. He thinks he’s boring, but he’s really not. He reads a lot, and is lucky he’s able to. Can’t do anything with pets or siblings, and because he doesn’t have any of those, he’s able to read and do really well in our history class. You got some nice notes, yeah? Good handwriting, this one. But yeah, that’s pretty much it.” Will didn’t think he had noticed his notes or his handwriting, and was flattered that Tom did.

“Oh, it’s my turn. Uh, Tom has a brother named Joe and lives on a tree orchard, which is really cool. His favorite character is Winnie the Pooh, er- he’s a real good storyteller, and he, uh, accidentally made shrapnel one time. I will not elaborate on that last one.” Will smiled, surprised that his joke landed as well as it did. A few chuckles was better than his usual none. 

Next, they played a game called ‘bang’. Everyone stood in a circle, with one person in the middle. The students stand with their hands behind their backs, extending their two pointer fingers and thumb to make a finger gun. When the person in the middle points their finger gun at someone, they say ‘bang’ and the person has to duck while the two people on either side turn toward each other, point their “guns” and say ‘bang’. The last person to say it is out. This goes on until there's only two people left. 

Tom was obviously good at it, having been in theatre for many years. Surprisingly though, Will was also very good. He was alert and had quick reflexes, something he learned from being in the household he was in. Eventually, it was just the two of the boys. They were told to stand back to back while someone made up a story. At some point in the story, a pre-chosen word would be said, and it told them to turn around and try to be the first ones to shoot each other.

The word was pineapple. 

“You’re gonna get destroyed!” Tom said cheerfully, the competitive personality coming out. He winked, and even though it made Will’s heart skip a few beats, he knew he had to beat Tom. Even if it was a silly little drama game. Their backs pressed together and Will found his face getting hot.

Cooke stepped forward and started telling the story. About penguins eating peanuts in their pretentious penthouses.

“The penguin goes into his fridge to grab another- PINEAPPLE!” he cried, and the boys flipped around, yelling ‘bang!’ in unison. They both looked expectantly at Charlie, who deemed that Tom was out. He fell to the floor dramatically, clutching his stomach, acting like he had been shot. He put his hand over his forehead, like a damsel in distress would. His hair fell in his eyes and Will’s stomach tied in knots. They held eye contact for a few seconds, staring at each other until Tom closed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, pretending to die. The group of students surrounded Will and cheered, giving him high fives and asking for a rematch of the game. 

They played a few more games, did a few more ‘team bonding exercises’ before the cast went home, sweaty and excited for the next week, when rehearsals would really start. They were asked to study their lines, know what scenes they were in, and come prepared for at least one idea for a scene or one choice your character could make. Will finally felt like he had a place in the school, like this is where he belonged. This group of people he had never seen together. Will felt like they shouldn’t be friends because of their wildly different interests and personalities, all in one place. They were all so different, but fit together like pieces of a puzzle. And Will loved that. He liked fitting in somewhere, and he was pretty sure he had Tom to thank for that.

He watched as Tom raced off down the sidewalk in the front courtyard of the school to the bus stop, waving over his shoulder to Will, a huge smile on his face. Will ignored the butterflies in his stomach.

-

“Oi,” Tom whispered across the wooden desks to Will. “Oi, you wanna come over to my house tonight? I need help with that “to be or not to be” bullshit. I jus’ don’ understand it,” he grumbled. 

Will looked up from his essay and tapped his pencil against his chin, thinking. “And what did I get out of this?” he joked, a small grin on his face. 

“You getta hangout with your best friend and the sexiest man alive,” Tom winked, shooting a finger gun. 

“Oh,you didn’t tell me Joe was gonna be there,” Will shot back, before turning back to his paper. Tom only rolled his eyes and chuckled. 

“Gentleman, do you have something you’d like to share with the class?” Leslie asked, pointing his yardstick at them suspiciously. They both shook their heads, smiling apologetically.

The only sounds in the classroom were pencils scratching against paper, Tom’s shoe tapping the tile floor lightly as he bounced his leg, and the whispering of a few other classmates. Out of the corner of his eye, Will watched as Tom’s body perked up and he looked around to see if anyone was watching them. He did this every time he wanted to talk in class, which was quite a lot. Will was used to it by now. He set his pencil down gently and looked over at Tom. His wide smile slightly startled Will. Tom was up to something. 

“I have a treehouse,” he whispered proudly. 

“A treehouse? What are you, five?”

“‘M a grown man, thank you very much. And besides, me an’ Joe haven’t used it in years. Could be a good place to study or read lines. So me mum isn’t botherin’ us,'' Tom replied, tapping his fingernails on the desk lightly. 

After a moment of silence, Will replied. “I’ll be there.”

Tom could barely contain his excitement, and his leg bounced quicker. Like an overeager dog wagging its tail. 

-

At 4 pm the loud school bell rang throughout the school. Will stood under one of the doorway arches at the back of the school, waiting for his friend. He liked to go out the back doors near the gym because the only people there were the after school sports team, and they never bothered him. He spotted Tom racing down the hallway, nearly knocking a teacher over. After getting scolded, he made sure the teacher wasn’t looking, and then continued to sprint down the hallway. He met with Will under the stone arch and they started to walk towards Tom’s house. 

Will’s mother was a business woman and his father was a lawyer, so he was usually left to himself the few hours after school. But unlike Tom, Will never spent his time exploring the town or hanging out with friends. He simply sat at home and did his homework or read. There was nothing more he needed, as he hadn’t had many friends before Tom. Will’s parents always told him he would have time for fun after he went off to college, and Will never found a reason to argue with them. As much as he loved school and his books, he wanted to live a little. So what if his parents didn’t know he was skipping his usual study time to hang out with a friend. 

The walk home was long but enjoyable. The cool fall air danced around the boys as Tom talked about his theatre class. 

“- and I‘m bein’ serious, mate! She was just tellin’ us about how Fosse’s work for the world of theatre should be idolized and not his personal life. Apparently he had mistresses and smoked eight packs of cigarettes a day. And like I’m jus’ sittin’ there listening to her lecture on an’ all of a sudden: “Bob Fosse is a slut!!”. She jus’ said it outta nowhere.” He laughed heartily. “Oh man, the class could not stop laughin’ for ages.” 

Will chuckled. “Well, at least she’s teaching you something. You sure will remember him.”

They came up to a small, one story house, surrounded by towering cherry trees. They were out of bloom, the bare branches reaching up to the cloudless sky. Tom led Will inside the warm house. 

“Hey Mum, your favorite son is home!” Tom called, a smile on his face. 

“Joe!” Ms. Blake joked back, coming into the entryway. Tom has already thrown his book bag down and was racing in towards the house. Will fumbled, taking off his shoes and setting his bag down quietly. He walked into the kitchen slowly, seeing Tom giving his mum a hug before grabbing an apple out of the fruit bowl on one of the counters. 

“Oh! Mum, this is Will. He’s helpin’ me with my lines. Understudy for Horatio,” Tom said through a mouthful of apple. He picked another up and gestured towards Will, offering it. Will shook his head, though he was quite hungry. He didn’t want to be rude and take their food. 

“Hello, Ms. Blake.” Will held out his hand for a handshake, only to be grabbed by the wrist and pulled into a tight hug. The woman was surprisingly tall, taller than both Joe and Tom. She was soft and warm, like a mum should be. Ms. Blake smelt like apples and sugar. She was the complete opposite of Will’s mother, cold and distant. 

With Will’s mother, all he ever received was one kiss on the head before school and one hug when she got home. That was the extent of their relationship as mother and son. When she told him to do something, he did, and never asked for anything or complained much. Will didn’t realize how much he needed a hug like this from someone until now. It took everything in him not to go back in for another embrace when Ms.Blake pulled away. 

“Please, call me Mama Blake.” She smiled sweetly, holding Will’s elbows. 

Tom groaned loudly. “Ugh, mum!” 

“What, Toto?” Mama Blake smiled over at him, making him turn beet red and stomp out the back door, towards the large backyard and tree orchard. “He says he hates when I call him that, but I think he likes it. Now, why don’t you go out there with him, ‘fore he gets all mad at you too.” 

Will headed out to the backyard, gazing in awe at the trees. They looked like they went on for miles, dark brown against the flat blue sky. He spotted a tiny house in the distance. The treehouse. Will could barely contain himself, the freedom of today kicking in. He is at his friends house, not studying, but playing in a treehouse. He shot off towards the structure. The trees flew by him, blurs of brown and green in his periphery. 

Approaching the treehouse, Will saw that it blended in with the trees around it, being made from the same wood. The treehouse was wrapped around the large trunk, using it to support the heavy platforms. There were small stairs leading up to a platform, a balcony of sorts. It had a long log laying horizontally with tiny switches going vertically. It didn’t look sturdy, and if anyone were to be pushed on the balcony the sticks wouldn’t do much to save them from falling. There was a small door that swung open and closed on the hinges, no latch to hold it closed. A lopsided square was cut out of the wall next to the door, a window of sorts. There were three more, one cut on each wall of the house. Will peeked in the window, glancing at the toys and leaves that covered the ground. It was apparent that Tom wasn’t lying, nobody had used this in years. There was a bookshelf in the back, holding two rows of books. An assortment of children’s picture books and small chapter books, one that would be read by someone new to chapter books. They were obviously soggy, mold growing on the spines. 

A stack of board games were stacked on top of the bookshelf, the ink smeared and distorted due to the years of rain. Mud stained the walls and there was a small nest-like clump of sticks nestled into the corner. A small hammock hung from the ceiling, the only thing that still seemed to be intact. There was a small wooden chair, and it too looked to be homemade. Will made a mental note to ask Tom about it. 

Tom climbed up the ladder, standing next to Will and looking in the window. 

“So, Toto-“

“Shut up. Jesus, it’s disgustin’ in there.” He crunched up his nose. “We’ll need to clean up before we can use it.”

So, the boys entered the treehouse and got to work. Tom found a broom and started sweeping, and Will got a trash bag for the dirty books and board games. They talked about everything, school, the treehouse, their likes and dislikes. 

Will learned that the treehouse was built by Tom and Joe when Tom was ten and Joe was thirteen. It took them the whole summer to build, and they spent every day in it for six months. But like every kid, they both grew bored of it, and by the second year it was built, they stopped going to it. Neither of them wanted to tear it down, much to Mama Blake’s dismay. She said it was ugly and stuck out like a sore thumb (which Will agreed with) but her sons refused to, due to sentimental value. 

Tom launched on to another story. “You wanna hear another one? Well this one day, right before we stopped visitin’ here, the last day of school- I was like... eleven and Joe was fourteen. Well, he was actin’ all sneaky and suspicious. Wearin’ his jacket even though it was June. Could tell there was somethin’ in his pocket. I don’ say much, and neither does mum. Thinkin’ it was some present or somethin’. Well that evening, mum went to sleep early. I was sittin’ in mine and Joe’s room, readin’ a book.” He paused, leaned down and examined the remaining books, the one Will had yet to pick up. He surveyed them before picking one up. 

“The Tao of Pooh. Always loved Winnie the Pooh. Anyway, I’m readin’ and Joe’s actin’ all weird and skittish. Says he needs to use the bathroom. He’s gone for a while, longer than usual. I go to check on him, but I can’t find him in the house anywhere. I bloody thought he ran away! I wake mum up and we go out lookin’ for him, yellin’ around the house. I check the front yard and mum checks the back an’ I go to tell her I can’t find him in the front when I see Joe gettin’ pulled back inside by his ear. An’ you wanna know what he’s got in his hand?! A bloody joint! Joe, the goody two shoes of the family- or so me mum thinks, smokin’ a weed?! Now my mum never hit us, but Joe got a good spanking that night. Jus’ about cried himself to sleep.” 

Tom laughed loudly, and it made Will smile. He liked when Tom told stories. Will wondered if Tom talked about him when he wasn’t there. He found himself getting jealous, wondering who else Tom talked about. He snapped himself out of it, why was he feeling these emotions over his friend?

“Well now that I think about it...” Tom trailed off, looking around the treehouse. He found a small metal box tucked into one of the toy chests. He flipped the box open, revealing a crumpled pack of cigarettes.Yet it was empty, the only thing in it a thin white joint the size of Will’s pointer finger. Will had never smoked, and neither had Tom, but they could both tell the other was curious. Silently, Tom slipped the pack into the pocket of his trousers. “For later.”

A silence fell over them as they cleaned until Will piped up. 

“So, are you er- are you excited to play Hamlet?” He asked, continuing to pick up books and broken toys. 

“Oh yeah! I love Hamlet. It’s so... wacky. A king gets killed because his brother wants to bone the queen? Weird shit, I love it.” Tom laughed and continued his sweeping.

“I always loved the subtext. Shakespeare has a ton of queer subtext in his plays.” 

Tom pauses. “Subtext? What queer subtext?”

Will stops too, blinking over at Tom. “How can you not catch it? The attachment to Horatio, rejection of Ophelia? ‘Goodnight my sweet prince’, and all that?”

Tom stood still, obvious he had never thought of it that way. 

“Er- There’s a lot to unpack,” Will said, suddenly self conscious about the attention being on him. 

“I’ve got time,” Tom replied, sitting in the wooden chair Joe had made a few years back. 

“Well where to start... William Shakespeare writing about homosexuals was nothing new. Shakespeare himself was rumored to be gay. Hamlet calls Horatio ‘Damon, dear’ which is a direct reference to Damon and Pythias, two friends that were so infatuated with each other Damon was willing to die for Pythias to be able to see his family one last time. And not to mention the rejection of Ophelia for no apparent reason. Oh! Oh- the final dying monologue,” Will’s mouth was moving a mile a minute. He could barely keep his thoughts straight. “Holding Hamlet in his arms, calling him ‘sweet prince’. If I don’t die in the arms of my boyfriend as he calls me ‘sweet prince’ then what’s the point-” Will stopped, realizing what he just said. 

“Boyfriend?” Tom said, cocking his head to the side. “Cool. Me too. Boyfriend or girlfriend. Anyway, continue on.”

Will stuttered, dumbfounded at how casual Tom made this. It was a monumental moment, something Will had never let anyone but himself know. He smiled. “It’s all there if you just look for it.” 

“I guess you’re right. Horatio? More like Hor-gay-tio,” Tom giggled, turning back to his sweeping. The comment took Will by surprise, and his laughs turned into snorts. The boys where practically doubled over repeating ‘Hor-gay-tio’ when Will’s watch beeped. He had to be getting home. Sitting up from the damp floor, Will looked over at a hysterical Tom. His cheeks were flushed red and he was holding his stomach. 

“Sorry, Tom, but I have to get home.” Will stood up, looking around. The treehouse looked as clean as they were going to get. 

Tom hopped up, grabbing Will’s arm at his elbow gently. “Come over again tomorrow, yeah? I like having you around.” 

Will could feel his ears turning red, and nodded quickly before Tom could point it out. 

“See you, Toto.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in conclusion: tom is dumb
> 
> also the shrapnel story was something that actually happened to my grandpa so... take that as you will. most of the stories tom tells are based on stuff that has actually happened to me or theyre stories ive been told
> 
> hope you enjoyed :)


	3. Chapter 3

Beep beep beep. The sound alerted Will that it was dinnertime. His least favorite time of the evening. He lay on his back, letting a puff of air escape his mouth before swinging his legs over the bed. Will slid the ‘Hamlet’ script out from under his pillow, flipping through the pages before returning it back to the underside of his pillow. He walked down the stairs carefully, making sure to not make too much noise. Running a hand through his hair, Will checked himself in the mirror hanging against the wall by the staircase.

The smell of chicken wafted out of the kitchen, and Will saw his mother stirring mashed potatoes. 

“Need any help, Mum?” He asked enthusiastically, putting a smile on his face.

“Sit down, William,” she said, not looking at him.

Will did as he was told, sitting on his side of the square table. His father emerged from his room, suit jacket off and tie loosened. He had a happy look on his face, and Will sighed with relief. 

“Hey dad, how was work?” he tried again, putting the smile back on.

“Good,” his dad answered simply. “How is school?”

“Real great. I have a friend named Tom,” Will stated quietly, hoping his parents wouldn’t hear him. He wanted to talk about Tom, he really did, but he was afraid that if he started talking he wouldn’t be able to stop talking about him. 

“A friend?” His mother asked, sounding exasperated. She brought over the meal, the soup, the mashed potatoes, then the brussel sprouts. 

“Yes. A friend,” Will glared at the back of his mother's head. “His name is Tom and he is in my history class.”

“I hope that this Tom is a good student? A good influence on you?” Will’s father questioned, sitting to the right of his son. 

“Yes, sir.” And that was that. They ate in silence, only ever talking to ask for the salt or the butter. Everything was going fine until Will mentioned the play.

“Hey, mum? Did you ever like watching any drama shows?” he asked, sipping his water.

“I enjoy them, why?”

“Because I’m in one.”

Mr. Schofield stopped with his spoon mid-air. He looked over at Will, eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re what?”

“I’m in a play. We are performing Hamlet. I am an understudy for one of the lead characters.”

“Well now, Will, why would you do that? It sounds silly, and you need to focus on your schoolwork, not some silly play,”his mum said. Will’s smile dropped, and he wished he never said anything at all.

“The show is in four weeks. I want you guys to come,” he mumbled, picking at his food.

“Of course we will co-” She was cut off by Mr. Schofield, voice low and tense.

“Why the hell would we come to a show that you went behind our backs for.”

Before he could stop himself, Will found himself talking back, “You never said I couldn’t. I never broke any rule!” 

His father slammed his fist on the table. His lips were pursed angrily and his eyes were wide, angry. Will’s eyes widened, but his mother stayed composed. “William, you will never talk back to me like that again, do you understand?”

When Will didn’t say anything, his father hit his fist again, making him jump. “I asked if you understood!”

“Yes sir,” he squeaked, vocal chords feeling stiff in his throat. 

“You will never go behind our backs again do you understand? What will this look like when you apply for university? Advanced honors classes, multiple languages, and theater? Doing these little drama shows is for people who have nothing better to do, people who have such boring lives that they pretend to be people they’re not.” 

Will’s chest tightened. He could deal with a lecture, but his father insulting Tom? He almost let his composure slip. “You have nothing to complain about, your life is amazing! You have a roof over your head, two loving parents, and a good brain in your skull.” He reached over and nudged the side of his son's head with the butt of his fork. Will flinched. “You don’t need to be around these freaks.”

Before Will could yell at his father, his mother spoke up.

“Honey, I am angry too, this is no way for our son to be acting. He knows better than this.” She gave Will the side eye, glaring at him. Tears threatened to fall out of his eyes. “But he made a commitment. It would look worse on us if he quit.”

“I guess you’re right. I am not happy about this, William. You are an adult now, so act like one.”

They turned back to their dinners quietly, until Will decided to say something.

“So do you think you’ll be coming, Dad? I know you’re busy.”

“I’ll see if I can take off work. I’ll be there.” His father was now calm, like a peaceful moment after a storm. That’s how it always was with him.

A small smile returned to Will’s face. Maybe he would introduce them to Tom.

-

The boys had put time aside after finishing their homework to clean up the treehouse. Tom brought sponges and towels for the dirty floor and Will brought some knick knacks to put all over the small building. They scrubbed the floors and made a miniature toolbox in case something broke. All that was in it though was a hammer, a few rusty nails, and an old wrench. They hoped nothing would get broken. Will reattached the old toy chest, moved the salvageable toys back to the Blake’s house, and put the toolbox in the chest. Tom found a few drawings he liked and hung them up in the treehouse. Will put some old books of his he didn’t read anymore in the bookshelf, and Tom brought out board games in case they ever wanted to play them. 

When they were done, Will relaxed in the hammock and watched Tom try to make everything perfect. He set the bucket of sponges near the door and straightened the drawings. He said he was going to bring the trash back to the house, but when Tom came back he was holding a plate of cookies. Apparently Mama Blake had made some for them, and they were ready at just the right time. 

Tom and Will sat side-by-side in the hammock, legs hanging over the side. Their hands brushed against each other while reaching for the cookies, but neither of them mentioned it.

“The best thing to go with cookies,” Tom suddenly piped up, “is a good friend.” He grinned at Will and nudged his shoulder.

Tom really did like Will.

-

As the boys walked home from a long day of rehearsals, Will and Tom noticed a second car parked in the Blake’s driveway. Tom’s eyes widened with excitement and he ran in the house. Will followed, confused. It wasn’t until he saw a tall man, college age, who looked exactly like Tom standing in the kitchen. When he and Tom saw each other they ran and hugged, laughing like crazy. Mama Blake stood off to the side, smiling widely.

“Joe! I can’t believe you’re home!” Tom said excitedly, “This is my mate Will. We are doing the play together!” He jabbered on excitedly, but Joe seemed not to mind. He stuck his hand out for Will to shake.

“Pleasure to meet you, Will. I hope you’re treating my brother well.” Joe meant it in the most platonic way possible, but Will went bright red. Joe was confused but didn’t say anything, there was no need to embarrass the boy more.

“Well I’m home before finals start, and I have a little activity for us to do,” Joe nods over to Will, “And your friend can join us if he wants to.” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a box of hair dye. Again, Tom’s eyes went wide.

“We get to dye your hair! No way!” He bounced excitedly. “What color?”

Joe flipped the box around, showcasing the color. Bright pink.

“Now don’t get it twisted, Tommy. It’s only gonna be this one long strand right here. We’re gonna bleach it and then dye it. It’ll be small but damn, if it won’t look dope.” Joe started walking, forcing the others to follow along. The brothers talked excitedly with each other while they walked into Tom’s room, to the bathroom next to it. Feeling like he was somehow intruding, Will tried not to let his eyes wander too much. Unfortunately, Will’s impulses got the best of him and his eyes roamed around the room.

Tom had a fluffy grey comforter with plain white pillows. A bright yellow blanket was thrown over the side, and it took everything for Will not to reach out and brush his fingers against it. The group walked into the messy bathroom. A chair was already set there and the bleach was mixed in a bowl. Tom winced as the smell of bleach hit his nose, waving his hand in front of his face. 

“Okay, Tom, I’m trusting you to do this. Just this one strand here, remember? You fuck it up and I’ll… I’ll piss in your wastebasket again.” Joe scolded, and Tom nodded like the comment meant nothing to him, but Will was slightly distressed. Again?! Was this how siblings acted? Maybe Will was glad he didn’t have any siblings. 

Joe sat down and closed his eyes, waiting for Tom to start dyeing his hair. Tom looked over to Will, slight distress in his face. Will shook his head, silently pushing Tom out of the way. He pointed to the bleach on the counter and then to the strand of hair. He pantomimed picking up the brush and brushing the bleach on. Tom nodded, moving to stand in front of Joe. Will went to mix the colored dye together, reading the instructions on the back.

“Stop pulling my hair so hard, Jesus, Tom!”

“You’re such a baby, you can deal with it.”

“At least I’m not yankin’ your hair everywhere.”

The bickering went on for some time, and Will smiled slightly. He’d never had this dynamic with anyone, just being able to joke around. Will added in the developer into the hair dye and watched as it turned bright pink. Joe must be real outgoing, if he wanted hair this bright, Will thought to himself. Will could never dye his hair. Firstly, a part of him thought his father would kill him, but mostly it’s that he simply likes his hair too much. It’s the one thing he’s able to be confident about. Maybe one day he will be confident enough to dye it. 

Will had to put Joe’s hair under the sink to wash out the bleach because neither of them trusted Tom to do it effectively. Will He felt awkward about touching someone's hair, especially someone he didn’t know, but nobody else in the room seemed to feel uncomfortable, so Will pushed the thought from his head. 

They applied the pink dye, and Joe had a fit because Tom accidentally got some on his skin. He was groaning in pain and doing the ‘damsel in distress’ hand that Tom always did when making sarcastic jokes, and he screeched when Tom accidentally brushed more onto his forehead. 

“It burns! It burns!” Joe cried, trying to push Tom away.

“There’s not even any bleach in it, you bastard.”

“My skin is melting off. Goodbye cruel world! I am dead because my dumb little brother can’t fucking apply hair coloring.”

“Well then do it yourself, Mr. Independent.”

Will thought that they were getting mad at each other, and was scared of the fight that would inevitably break out.But with a quick glance at Joe’s face, the small grin told Will they were only joking. It made him envious of Tom. A brother who loved him, a mom that would talk to him. From Will’s perspective, it was the perfect life. 

After washing his hair again, drying, and applying hair gel, Joe’s hair looked better than ever, the bright pink contrasting well with his baby blue eyes. Tom tried to convince Mama Blake to let him dye his hair pink so he and Joe could be matching, but she said no, which Will appreciated. He liked Tom’s hair the way it was. The group spent the afternoon playing board games and talking. About their interests 

When Will’s watch beeped, Joe offered to drive him home.As they all got in the car, Will gave Joe the directions. Joe turned the radio up loudly, singing some song Will didn’t know. Will had never liked music that much, the only songs his family listened to being classical music. He never fancied any of the music on the radio, and classical music upset him. He just preferred silence. Will tried to tune out the music, but when Tom looked back at him, singing loudly, Will couldn’t help but smile.

The music faded as Joe drove back down the street, and Will found himself missing Tom already. But he supposed that’s what happened when you had a friend. Will didn’t let himself think about Tom too long.


	4. Chapter 4

Tom bounded into the house, looking over his shoulder frantically as Will chased him. He unlocked the door and ran into the entryway, throwing off his coat and pushing off his shoes. Will did the same, dropping his backpack in the same place he always did. They ran through the kitchen, as Will grabbed an apple, throwing it at Tom. 

“You’ll never be able to get me, WIlly!” Tom shouted mockingly, pushing the backdoor open.

“Don’t fucking call me Willy!” He laughed, pumping his legs faster. They bounded off into the field in their everyday race towards the treehouse. As usual, Tom beat Will, being much more active and in shape than Will was. 

They jumped up the ladder and tumbled through the door, pushing each other playfully to see who would be the first one over to the hammock. Tom knew it was Will’s favorite spot, and always tried to steal it to make Will mad. Tom always thought Will was cute when he was annoyed, but he wouldn’t admit that. He always let Will have his spot back, though. 

After arguing and shoving each other a bit more, Tom retired to his usual chair in the corner. He hunched over the small table, pencil scratching paper. Will lay on his back, hands on his chest, fingers intertwined. He looked over at Tom. He watched the way his tongue stuck out of his mouth as it always did when he focused on something, how his hands changed from the long, brushing strokes to the smaller, more precise drawing of the details like the face or the hair.

“Who are you drawing today, Tommy?” 

“I’m drawing Lauri. Y’know, who plays Ophelia.”

Will sat up slowly, head cocked. Tom had never really drawn girls, always his male friends. James and Will being among the most popular. Sketches of them hung around the treehouse, from Will reading in the hammock to moments at rehearsal. 

“Why are you drawing Lauri?” Will asked, his curious tone shifting into one that sounded like a jealous significant other. Tom looked over silently, his eyes narrowed, trying to read Will.

“Why’da have a problem with it?” he replied coldly, hunching over his paper more. Will sat quietly for a moment and watched him work, hearing Tom’s pencil marks get more aggressive as the seconds stretched on.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong? I didn’t mean to upset you.” Will spoke quietly, like he would to an angry animal.

“What, you haven’t heard? I thought someone would’a told’ya by now. I asked out Lauri today.” Tom said it like he was mocking himself, as if he didn’t know what his words did to Will.

Will froze in his position by the hammock. A flip in his stomach, his heart in his throat. He couldn’t tell what he was feeling. Was it jealousy that Lauri would get to take up more of Tom’s time? Hurt because he didn’t even know Tom had fancied girls- a girl- at all? Why hadn’t Tom told him? Was he scared to? Did he think Will fancied her too? His mind whirled with thoughts. They dizzied him and he plopped back onto the hammock, feeling quite sick. 

“Oh. Well congratulations,” Will said simply, laying back down. He pulled the fabric of the hammock over his face, hiding it from Tom. He breathed steadily to stop the tears from escaping his eyes, but still had to brush away one that slipped out of the corner of his eye. He breathed out slowly, getting his thoughts together. Tom wouldn’t spend more time with Lauri than he did with Will, and maybe he hadn’t told Will because he’d wanted it to be a surprise? A new friend for Will to have around? He couldn’t quite place that last one. Tom and Will had told each other everything, favorite books, secret talents, childhood secrets. Will tried not to dwell on it, but this seemed like betrayal. Or at least the closest thing you could get to betrayal with two yearning sixteen year olds. 

“I really like her, mate. She’s real pretty. And,” Tom paused, obviously trying to think of another compliment to give her, “And she’s got a cool style. I like her style.”

‘A boy’s style’, Will thought, annoyed that Tom was acting like this. ‘If he wanted to date someone who dressed like a boy, why doesn’t he date me?’ The thought surprised Will. Did he really want Tom to date him? Was that the reason he didn’t like Lauri all of the sudden? She was a sweet girl. But while Tom looked at her long hair and feminine physique, Will gazed at Tom.

His bright eyes, his short hair that Will wanted to run his hands through. He wanted to take Tom’s soft hands on his own and feel the callouses and lines, learn about the life Tom had lived before Will came. Will admired Tom’s confidence, being able to speak in front of a large group of people- or even a group of friends- was not something Will had ever done. He never had any stories to tell or people to tell them to. But with Tom there it was like a whole new world. 

He was always up and doing something, going somewhere. Exploring the acres of land behind Blake's house, climbing the trees as high as you can and jumping off, rebuilding the treehouse from a dingy cabin to a comfortable get-together spot. It was all new and exciting for Will, and he often thought about the fact that this was an everyday occurrence for Tom. He had a mum that was there when he needed her. Will only had himself, his books, and his journals. He frowned, frustrated that he was in that self-pitying state of mind again. 

“Real happy for you,” Will said before turning over in the hammock and looking out the window, going silent.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I should’a told’ya when she said yes. I guess I was jus’ too excited and talkin’ to Charlie and Jon and James and it just slipped my mind,” Tom offered, but it made it worse. He told them before he told me? I don’t see those boys with Tom everyday after school,Will brooded. He sighed, realizing it was exhausting to be mad at Tom.

“It’s fine. It’s- whatever. Do you wanna do something fun today?” Will swung his legs over the side of the hammock, resting his head in the heel of his palm, “I finished my homework during the last class period, so I’m free for a few hours. Until my parents come home, of course.”

“Sorry mate, but our date is tonight! We are gonna see a movie, tonight was the only night she was free.” Tom shrugged, turning back to his drawing.

“Well since you are so busy, I’ll just go home now.” Will snapped. It came out harsher than he’d meant it, but he was out of the treehouse before Tom could say anything. He walked swiftly back to the house, hoping Tom was following him, hoping he would call off the date- maybe the whole relationship- so things could go back to the way they were. But he wasn't. Tom simply sat on his chair in the treehouse, pinning the picture of Lauri up next to the one of Will.

-

The first day that Everett was out due to sickness was no big deal, as he wasn’t in any scenes that day. The second one though, it was a big deal to Will. He had learnt the scene and the lines, had run them in his bedroom, but he still felt nervous or like he would forget. The embarrassment he already felt from just imagining slipping up on his lines terrified him. He waited anxiously as the scenes went on, being picked apart and critiqued by the director, the actors running it over and over. He knew the upcoming scene was long, it was one that had almost every member of the cast out on stage at one point or another. Act III, scene II: The Play. 

Evening in the castle, and the hall was now doubling as a theatre. After hearing about the death of his father (and much more importantly how the current King Claudius was the one who killed him) Hamlet had decided to try and catch Claudius. He’d set up a play in which the actors recreate how Hamlet’s father’s ghost described his death, and he would be watching the king to see how he reacted. 

After waiting for his entrance, Will walked onto the stage, making his way towards Tom.

“Here, sweet lord, at your service.” He smiled slightly and gave a small bow. 

“Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man/As e'er my conversation coped withal,” Tom replied . Horatio, you are the best man I have never known.

“O, my dear lord,--”

“Nay, do not think I flatter; For what advancement may I hope from thee/That no revenue hast but thy good spirits,To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd?” Don’t think I’m flattering you. What could I hope to get from you, who’ve got nothing but your charm to support you in life? Why would anyone flatter a poor person? 

Will found himself blushing at the complement, then wondering why because it wasn’t meant for him, it was meant for Horatio. 

“Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice  
And could of men distinguish, her election  
Hath sealed thee for herself, for thou hast been—  
As one in suffering all that suffers nothing—  
A man that Fortune’s buffets and rewards,”

“Blessed are those who mix emotion with reason in just the right proportion... Give me that man  
That is not passion’s slave, and I will wear him/In my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart,” 

Tom spoke the lines as he would if he was just talking to Will, all the words coming out of his mouth true. Will was always so self composed and even though he was hard to read, Tom was envious of him. Sometimes he didn’t like being deemed ‘the loud one’ by his friends. Sometimes he didn’t like wearing his heart on his sleeve, having everyone all the time knowing what emotions he felt. And he definitely didn’t like how red his face became when Will called him Toto or when he ruffled his hair after telling a joke. 

Tom finished his monologue, and waited for Will to reply. Will was staring at him, but was slightly zoned out. He was thinking about something, Tom was familiar with this face, but the redness in his cheeks and ears was something that confused Tom. Why was he blushing?

After another moment of silence, Will snapped out of his daze, realizing he’d zoned out. His cheeks went brighter as he stumbled over the words. Somehow it worked, being so much like Horatio’s character.

Will always thought that Tom was fit to play Hamlet, but after acting in a scene with him, Tom was Hamlet. Will was so infatuated with Tom being so in character but still so himself that he slipped up on his lines, kept forgetting the words. He was about to give up, about to ask the director if they could take a break or something when Tom looked over and gave him that smile. The smile that got Will through the day, that made him have the confidence to be in this show. 

The scene finished and the director started giving notes. She told everyone to get their lines down, as many students had completely skipped over some or had to grab their scripts. They reminded them of critiques and placements.

“Uh- my next note is for Will. You were in the wrong spots a few times. Get over more on the… on the line- about watching the king- what is it? About watching him like you would a thief or something. You have to be standing closer together. You’re making a plan, not just being bros. Get closer.” 

She held her right hand out and flicked it sideways, gesturing them to move closer together. They both took one, two steps forward until their arms were almost touching. Will looked down on Tom’s face and noticed every freckle, the flecks of brown in his blue eyes. He pulled his eyes away, looking back toward the director for confirmation of their positions. She nodded and looked down at her script. 

“Now I really like the pause you had between his line and your line, Will. I thought it really fit Horatio because he would be considering why he was doing this for Hamlet, it’s such a weird plan. So after he finishes the line, you put your hand on his shoulder- write this down- and let it fall to his hand. Take his hand and say the line, then drop it. Just a good old platonic hand hold. We tried this with Everett but he couldn’t quite get it without making it look stiff. Your chemistry together seems real and raw, I’m sure this will work out. Take it back from… ‘Which I have told thee of my fathers death,’”

They stayed close as Tom said his line, using his hands excitedly as he usually would. Will put his hand on Tom’s shoulder gently.

“Well, my lord,” Will’s hand fell to intertwine with Tom’s. Tom’s palm was warm and sweaty, but Will blamed it on the lights. It did get rather hot up there. “If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing, And ’scape detecting, I will pay the theft.” With a small squeeze, he let it go. His fingers buzzed, not having held someone's hand in so long. The energy sent chills up his spine in a jolt, goosebumps covering his arms. 

“Very good, boys. Will, good job. Okay everyone! We are going to take it from the top one more time, then you can all go home.”

Will turned to compliment Tom, but his friend was already over talking excitedly to Lauri. He frowned slightly, annoyed that Tom was doing this more and more often. The afternoons in the treehouse had become afternoons with Lauri. No longer were they working on homework or talking about school, Tom and Lauri would just walk in and out of the cherry trees, holding hands. Tom was probably talking about some story that happened to him, and Lauri always laughed and asked him questions, just like Will had done. 

Will joined them the first few days, but ultimately realized they didn’t really notice when he was there or when he was gone. He would end up working on his homework alone in the treehouse. It took him longer because Tom wouldn’t work on it during rehearsals anymore. He was too busy running scenes with Lauri. And even when Tom was around, all he talked about was Lauri. Will wanted to be happy for him, because Tom seemed to really like her, but the sinking feeling he got when he saw them together was hard to ignore. 

They ran it again and Will went home without saying goodbye to Tom. He didn’t think he’d notice. Tom noticed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: verbal abuse (starts at “Hey I-” Tom was cut off by the door slamming open. and ends at and whispering affirmations in his ears. )

“Tom can you please stop playing with that. I’m actually being responsible and trying to memorize,” Will groaned, folding the corner of his script down to mark the page. He closed the book and turned to see Tom playing obnoxiously with a cheap sticky hand toy. The rubbery hand made quiet slapping noises as it stuck and unstuck from Will’s arm.

“Why, Will? Does it annoy you,” Tom stepped closer to Will, becoming more aggressive with the hand, the smile still apparent on his face. 

“Can you maybe not?” 

He continued to whip the hand, inching it closer to Will’s face. “Maybe not what? My aim is pretty great right now.”

Tom’s voice was cut off by Will wrapping his hand around the sticky toy, tearing the hand from the connecting base. 

“Oh great going, fucknut. You broke it.” Tom said as he threw the broken toy over his shoulder. 

“I broke it?” Will cried, annoyed. He threw a quick glare to his friend only to be met with his lopsided smile. 

“Yeah, you broke it with you big, dumb hands.” Tom giggled as Will huffed, opening up his script to the marked page. Out of his periphery, he watched as Tom waltzed over to the hammock, standing silently beside Will. 

Before Will could make a comment, Tom was attempting to get into the hammock. 

“Tom, what the hell are you doing?!” He cried as the fabric started to fold in on itself. 

“I want in, ‘s my turn.”

“No it’s not, I was in here first.”

Tom balanced out their weight and laid down, getting comfortable in the hammock. He smiled slyly at Will. 

“Continue your work.” Will turned back to his script, annoyed. Not five seconds later, he was met with a foot tapping his face. Lowering the book so just his eyes peaked over, he found Tom grinning from ear to ear. Tom’s socked foot continued to kick at his face, once, twice, three times before Will reached up and dug his nails into the skin of Tom’s calf. 

Despite not putting much force behind it, Tom still yelped. He pulled his leg back, sitting up. Will knew what he was doing, and sat up too. He blocked Tom’s first advance, but doubled over at the quick jab to his stomach. Using the hand still holding the book, he used his script to slap Tom across the face. Because he had an older brother and they fought like this all the time, Tom’s reflexes were much faster. He snatched the book out of Will’s hands, keeping his thumb in between the marked page, where Will’s had been. They were just messing around but Tom didn't want to make Will lose his spot. 

Before he could register the interception of the script, Tom was being pushed down to his back by one of Will’s hands on his chest, the other hand leaning into the fabric by Tom’s ear. A small squeak escaped his lips, and Will’s cheeks flushed redder than a tomato. They stayed like this for a moment longer than they should have, faces close. 

Tom noticed the way Will’s tongue swiped across his bottom lip, a habit he tended to have when he was nervous. Tom didn’t understand why Will was nervous, though. Right as he felt the weight on his chest being lifted, Tom glanced over at the script, being held open by his thumb. Act five, scene two. The final death scene. 

“O, I die, Horatio;” The line left his throat before he realized, and Will froze, hand still firmly placed on Tom’s chest. He felt his heartbeat quicken. “The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit:I cannot live to hear the news from England;” 

Somehow, they were closer. Tom didn’t mind. He continued reciting the lines, no longer joking around. 

“But I do prophesy the election lights/On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice;So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less,Which have solicited.”

A pause. angled his face up towards Will. 

“The rest is silence.”

For a moment, Will faltered. The tension was thick, and he stuttered for the right start before finally speaking his line. His voice was only a whisper, the air leaving his lips after every word fluttering Tom’s soft curls. 

“Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:  
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest,” Will closed his eyes as he said the line. The sound of the wooden ladder creaking snapped him out of his daze, but Tom panicked. His knees came up and met Will’s chest, throwing him from the hammock. Will’s hands scrambled around to catch himself, but he landed hard on his back.

The door opened, and Lauri stood in the doorway, smiling. 

“Where are you boys fighting?” She joked, leaning against the small door. Her usual hoodie was wrapped around her waist, a plain long sleeve shirt over basketball shorts.

“We were certainly doing something,” Will muttered, rubbing his back. Tom threw a quick glance in his direction before turning his attention back to Lauri. 

“Oh hey, Lauri! We were just-uh- just messin ‘round. Nothin’ much to see,” he laughed forcefully, a bit too loud. Lauri’s smile remained, but her eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. Something was up with Tom, but neither Lauri nor Tom himself knew what it was. 

“Anyway,” Lauri cleared her throat quietly. “Ready for our date?”

Tom mentally facepalmed. He’d forgotten their date to the park was tonight. Again. Their dates always seemed to slip his mind, as he was never as excited for them as he used to be, as he he thought he should be. He would much rather hang around with Will, though he figured they did that all the time. Maybe this was just how you were supposed to feel after dating someone for a while. Tom didn’t know, but he certainly wasn’t going to ask anyone. 

“‘Course, love!” His voice went up in pitch slightly, and he stood up too fast. Will thought this meant Tom was nervous for his date with Lauri, and started to see himself out. He silently stood up and made a beeline for the door. 

“See you guys,” he muttered as he jumped the steps to the crunchy leaves that had fallen at the bottom. 

Will ran home so fast he didn’t even realize Tom still had his script, the marked page staying propped open by Tom’s finger. 

-

Will sat on the couch in his living room as he did every night, watching the nightly reruns of F.R.I.E.N.D.S his mother insisted the family watch as ‘family bonding’. If family bonding was sitting silently, Ms. Schofield’s witch-like cackle cutting through the air every few minutes. 

The episode showed two characters, Joey and Phoebe trying to teach Joey french so he can go to an audition. Will sat sulking, French reminding him of Lauri, and how Tom was always spending time with her. They always had spontaneous dates and she’s always around in the treehouse. All of their time during rehearsals is spent together (which Will tried to excuse as them being scene partners and leads, and sometimes it worked). 

Will was tired of hearing about Lauri, her favorite foods and what classes she wasin and all the words she has taught Tom in French. In one of Will’s many daydreams of Tom, he imagined the greetings of ‘mon ami’ would one day change to that of ‘mon amour’. But that’s all they would ever be, daydreams. He sat there brooding before hearing a knock at the door. The telly was turned up loud and his parents hadn’t heard it. 

Wanting to get away, Will told his parents he was going to the restroom before going down the hallway to the front door.Quietly opening the door and stepping onto the cold concrete, Will was greeted by Tom. Will closed the door behind him, shivering at the cool sidewalk beneath him.

“What are you doing here?” It came out harsher than he meant it, but Will was scared of his parents finding out a friend was here unannounced. He relaxed slightly, not trying to make Tom think he was mad at him.

“You left your script with me after… this evenin’,” Tom said awkwardly, holding out the flimsy paper script. Will suddenly remembered, and his face became hot despite the cool air.

“Oh- uh- yeah… that. Well, thanks for my script back. I think Mrs. Wilson would kill me if I lost it.” He took it back, careful to not touch Tom in any way. They stood there for a moment in awkward silence. Will’s shoulders became tense again.

“Hey ’m sorry I’ve been spendin’ so much time with Lauri lately, I really do like our daily treehouse sessions. I know it’s my own fault but I… I miss you.” Tom whispered, taking Will’s mind off the initial awkward situation.

Will instantly relaxed, feeling sympathy for the boy. He knew it wasn’t that he had a strong desire to be with Lauri- Tom wasn’t in love with her or anything- but Will couldn’t figure out why Tom was still dating her. Will decided to push it from his mind, as it always did. It was too confusing, and Will didn’t like thinking about the possibilities.

“I miss you too.” He allowed himself to smile. “If you ever come over again, don't knock…. Please? You know how my parents are, my dad would lose it if anyone was here out of the blue. My window is that one right there, the one on the outside. Just throw a pebble at it or something, I don’t know. But even then, please be careful. I swear I’ll get killed if I have a chunk missing out of my window because someone threw a rock at it.” They both laughed quietly. 

Tom’s nose was slightly pink from the cold, and his eyes crinkled like they always did when he smiled. Will could have kissed him, right then and there. He started to lean down slightly, to close the gap in between them. He thought Tom had the same idea until he felt Tom’s arms wrapping around his chest, giving him a tight hug. It took Will by surprise, and a noise of shock left his throat. It took him a second to process it before he wrapped his arms around Tom. He pulled away after a few seconds.

“What was that for?” Will joked nervously.

“Aw come on, mate, I know you’d wanna hug the handsome-est guy out there.” He scowled at Tom, and the latter relaxed. “’ve never given you a hug and for some reason you looked like you needed it. Sorry if I did somethin’ wrong.” Tom turned to leave, and Will knew he had to get back inside soon.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Thank you, I... really needed that.” Before waiting for an answer, he slipped back inside and locked the door. “Hey mum? I’m not feeling good, can I go to sleep early?” he called, making his way up the stairs. That night, Will fell asleep with thoughts of Tom outside his window on his mind.

-

In the theatre department, the second Saturday before a show was spent at the local costume store in the next town over. The group would drive there around 11 am, get lunch together, then meet the director at the costume shop at noon to start seeing what they wanted to buy. 

A group of five cars pulled up to a sketchy looking diner in the small town called “Hannah’s Diner.” The students trickled steadily out of the cars until the entire cast was standing out on the sidewalk. They looked towards Sara, one of the 13th year students. 

“Is everyone here? Everett had to stay home because he’s sick again, poor bastard.” Sara spoke at the crowd, doing a headcount, “Anyways, remember, you act classy in here. Do it for my sake, because I’ll be the one who gets scolded even after she’s done lecturing all of you. It’s happened before. Just act normal, please.” She sighed, obviously annoyed that she even had to tell the group this. “We need to be there at noon, so you have an hour to order your food and get there. Don’t be late. Don’t leave the building. Don’t go anywhere without a partner. Now go away.”

The groups entered the building, a small diner with peeling wallpaper and dusty floors. Each small group took different booths, Charlie, Jondalar, James, and Malky at one table, Spencer, Wally, Jamie, and Paula at another. In the far corner sat Patrick Parry, Atkins, Kilgour, and Fritz Baumer, and next to their book was Lauri, Sara, Will, and Tom. 

Will and Tom sat close together, doing the games on the kid’s menu that was accidentally given to them.

“Accidentally, my ass. Tom just looks like he’s twelve,” Sara retorted, snickering. Tom rolled his eyes and stuck his middle finger up.

“Fuck off, Sara.”

“Tom, don’t be rude,” Lauri huffed, pulling her long hair into a loose ponytail before starting up a conversation with Sara about university. After finding all the words in the crossword, playing three games of tic tac toe, and failing to connect the dots, Will watched as Tom sketched out a doodle of the two girls across from him talking. In the picture, Sara was laughing while Lauri smiled up at her. Even though it was done with a shitty crayon, the picture looked almost real. Lauri’s curls looked as voluminous as they did in real life, Sara’s freckles popping amongst her dark skin identical to the drawing. 

“You’re really good. Where did you learn to draw like that?” Will asked quietly. 

“My dad was really into art, he painted a bunch of stuff. He tried to teach Joe, but Joe didn’t really like it. He was more into sports, like mum is. But my dad- he would sit next to me and we’d draw for hours. I would draw him, he would draw me. We used to watch ‘The Three Stooges’ when I was little, and he would draw himself, Joe, and I as Larry, Moe, and Shimp.” He chuckled, lost in memory of his childhood.

“He taught me a little bit of piano, taught me how to ride a bike. But I was always better at art than any of those things. I used to draw everythin’, people at school, my family, myself. Durin’ holidays we would compete and see who made the best card each time. My mum always said it was a tie, but his cards were always so amazin’.” Tom started to trail off, a lump in his throat, “Our favorite holiday was halloween. We’d make homemade costumes and surprise each other on the day. When I was nine I was gonna dress up as him for Halloween, I had his shirt and everything. He said he had one more thing to get from the store, but on his way back he ended up crashing into a light pole to avoid some kids who ran into the street.” 

He paused, and Will was about to say something when Tom tearfully continued. “God I remember sittin’ there worried out of my mind, still wearin’ his shirt when the officer came to our door. I don’t think I took his shirt off for a solid week. It smelled like him and I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

Tom looked at his lap, fiddling with his thumbs. “Anyway, that next month, me and Joe started buildin’ the tree house. Joe said it was because he was bored, but we both knew it was in memory of him.” He sighed tearfully, “He always talked about buildin’ a treehouse, and we had a runnin’ joke because he never did. I miss him like crazy sometimes, but drawin’ really helps me. It kinda keeps me going.” 

Tom finally stopped himself after rambling for a few minutes. It was apparent that he hadn’t talked about this in a very long time. Will sat there awkwardly. Lauri and Sara were too wrapped up in their own conversation and each other to know what the two boys were talking about. 

Will took Tom’s hand gently under the table, giving him the ‘platonic squeeze’ -as Mrs.Wilson had called it- that they did as Hamlet and Horatio. Tom smiled slightly, squeezing back harder. They started squeezing the other’s hand until they were almost arm wrestling, seeing who they could hurt more. Eventually Tom had to surrender, Will’s big hands too powerful for his. They laughed until their stomachs hurt.

An hour later, the groups were standing outside the diner getting into their cars. Will, Tom, and Lauri got into Sara’s car, and they were off to the costume shop. The backpack and other junk in the front seat caused the three younger ones to all squeeze in the back. Tom was sitting in the middle, while Lauri and Will were on the outside seats. Although Tom and Lauri held hands, his thigh was still pressed up against Will’s. Will tried to ignore them.

-

Pulling up to “Danna’s Dancewear and Costumes,” Will saw that the other few cars were already parked and unloaded, waiting for Sara. Once everyone was in the store, they made their way to the back. A girl with a name tag showing the name ‘Mallory’ stood at the back, waiting for everyone to join her. She had short chin-length hair with dyed red bangs, septum piercing, and all black clothes. Lauri unhooked her hand from Tom’s.

Mallory explained how they found costumes, marked down the tag number on a sheet, tried it on, and if deciding to put it back, checking the ‘return’ box by the tag on the sheet. She said she would be at the front if they needed any help, but otherwise they were good to go. Everyone separated to go look at costumes, Mrs. Wilson joining a few students at a time to help them. 

Tom and Will ventured to the back of the store, where more of the miscellaneous items were. On either side of a rack, they would try and find the weirdest things on their side. Tom dropped below the rack momentarily before popping back up with a ratty black wig on his head. The hair was supposed to be curly, but the tangles put it sticking up and down and to every side. Their laughter was loud and rambunctious. 

“Are we staying focused, boys?” Mrs. Wilson called, and they both quieted their laughter. 

They perused the racks of clothes, from the good, to the bad, to the straight up hideous. Why would anyone need a neon green suit with four layers of shoulder pads? 

The trick with Shakespeare costumes, Will learned, was layering. They kept adding jackets and shawls and coats and tunics. The list went on and on. Tom emerged from the dressing room in a long sleeved navy blue shirt, covered by a black tunic with gold embroidery, a cape-like piece of fabric that hung off his shoulder, saggy dark pants, and smooth leather boots. 

Will had to suppress his laugh because Tom looked downright silly. He looked around to see if anyone else had felt the same, if anyone else was laughing, but people were only staring in awe and complimenting the costume. Will kept his giggles down, fearing what his costume would be.

A hooded cloak. He held it in his hands as he stood in the mirror, trying to convince himself to put it on. He pulled out the black pants, feeling uncomfortable with how low they sagged. An undershirt, then finally the cloak. It was a dark grey with accents of deep forest green to it. Will pulled on the hood of the cloak, immediately throwing it back down in embarrassment. He turned red when he realized he looked like a death eater from Harry Potter. Bashfully, Will made his way out of the dressing room.

Tom was the only one who made a comment, and even then he was complimenting how Will looked. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. The rest of the cast tries on gowns and pants and coats on, and it was 5 pm before they were done. Will was supposed to be home by 6 but they weren’t even on the main highway at 5:30, everyone was still in line waiting to check out their costumes. Will was silently panicking, begging the universe for time to move quicker. They were in the car at 5:45, but Will could already hear his father’s screaming. They dropped Lauri off first, and she took her time saying goodbye and getting out of the car. At Will’s house, Tom walked him to his door. 

“Hey I-” Tom was cut off by the door slamming open. Will flinched, and at the sight of his dad standing in the doorway tears rose to his eyes.

He instantly started apologizing. “Dad- I’m so sorry. I was trying to get them to leave but we were just caught up in all-”

Mr. Schofield lost his mind. He got right into Will’s face, looking over at Sara and pointing at Tom as he yelled. He yelled at Will for being irresponsible, stupid, selfish for goingout with his friends. Will was sobbing, hot tears streaming down his face. Tom tried to comfort him but Will turned away, and Mr. Schofield glared threateningly at him.

“Don’t hurt him,” Tom glared back, the same fire in his eyes. “It was an accident, he- we didn’t mean to make him late.”

Mr. Schofield grabbed Will by the arm, pulling him inside. Will walked along silently, grimacing at his father's grip and wiping away tears with his free hand. Tom ran after them.

“Stop! You’re hurting him, please stop!” he cried, trying to pull Will away. 

Will’s father whipped around, planting Will behind him. “You get out of here, I don’t want any of you friends of my son’s coming near our house again, you understand me?” By now, Sara was out of the car, making her way towards Tom.

“What’s going on, is there a problem?” She asked calmly, a firm hand on Tom’s shoulder. 

“Get this boy off of my lawn, I don’t want him anywhere near my house trying to tell me what to do,” Mr. Schofield yelled, and Will cried harder behind him. Tom fought against Sara’s grip trying to reach Will. He became frantic, tears pricking his eyes as he tried to comfort Will.

“Tom, get back in the car,” Sara demanded, taking her eyes off the Schofields only to look at Tom, “Get back in the fucking car.”

Sara pushed him back slightly, letting go of his arm. Tom walked solemnly back to the car, sitting in the front seat. The tall girl stood in front of the house for a moment longer, glaring at Will’s dad before returning to her car.

As much as Will didn’t want anyone to see him crying like this- much less Tom- he wanted to feel Tom’s arms around him again. Standing in the same spot on the lawn as he had been that night, Will wrapped his arms around his torso and cried. He stared at the ground and sobbed, pretending his own arms were Tom’s, holding him gently and whispering affirmations in his ears. 

Will needed nothing more than to be held, touched. He longed for it, physical affection was scarce in his household. A kiss on the cheek from his mother, and a hair ruffle from his father. No hugs, no high fives, or friendly nudges. The only time Will got close to his father in any way was when his father was invading him. Yelling at him, pushing him. Each insult hit Will like a punch and each glare cut him like a knife. He believed every single word, internalized all of it. But the embarrassment of being yelled at and crying in front of Tom hurt more than any other insult Will had been called that night.

And his father loved to embarrass him. He used it as a tactic to call Will weak. Will had learned to zone out, not process any of his father’s words. After he realized that his mum wouldn’t come save him, that she was locking herself in her bedroom to save herself from her own husband, Will learned how to cope with it. Internalize the words but never talk about the actions, pretend it never happened, accept any and all apologies (even if they were scarcely given). If he never talked about it and shoved it deep down, he wouldn’t be affected by it, right? It had worked so far.

After his father was done with him, Will did his usual routine for after their “conversations.” Cry against the floor of his bedroom for fifteen minutes, take a shower to wash off the feeling of shame and embarrassment, read a random book for a few hours to further calm down. Then when his parents went to sleep, he would sneak downstairs and eat. After eating granola bars and cold, leftover pizza, Will made his way back up the stairs quietly. He turned the lights off in his room and let his eyes adjust, staring at the wall. Eventually he fell asleep, no dreams or fantasies, just darkness.

-

Tom and Will never talked about what happened.


	6. Chapter 6

When Lauri pulled Tom aside during one of their rehearsals, Tom thought it would be a normal conversation, but he was wrong.

“Hey Tom I… Can I talk to you about something?” She looked nervous, and Tom tried to reach and hold her hand for comfort, but she turned away. “I don’t think we’re gonna work out anymore. I’m really sorry. I just-”

“You’re fine,” he replied, feeling a small drop in his stomach. “I understand. Sorry if I did anything.” Lauri turned around and left without an answer.

Tom walked back to the seat where his book bag sat, Will sitting next to it. He did feel sad just… weird. He stood in front of Will for a moment, and the boy looked up.

“Lauri just broke up with me?” He said it like a question. Will looked at him quizzically before tugging on his sleeve, telling him to sit down. Tom sank next to him, leaning his back against the seat. The two sat in silence and watched as the director gave notes to a few other students, critiquing their scenes.

“You alright?” Will whispered, glancing over at Tom.

“Surprisingly, yeah. I don’t know, I jus’ felt like it was goin’ to happen soon.” His voice drifted off into incoherent mumbling. Will didn’t ask about what he was saying.

-

Rehearsal continued on like normal, but there was a tension in the air. Something was off, but nobody could tell what was wrong. Tom and Lauri were awkward, but trying hard not to be. It was difficult to watch, and Will sat in the audience cringing. He watched the show and wrote down his notes as he usually did. 

This time, he let his eyes wonder. Over to Tom, watching how he moved and how he spoke. How his thumb touched the ring on his pinkie when he stumbled over a line or messed up his blocking. He was always watching Tom, he really liked the boy. But this time was different. 

Tom was looking back. When he delivered lines to the audience or looked out across the auditorium, he didn’t look at the usual place above the audience. His eyes were locked with Will’s only leaving them when he had to turn back to the scene. Will believed Tom when he said he wasn’t too sad about the breakup. It wasn't like Tom would lie about the sort of thing, especially to Will. They never lied to each other.

Well, Tom never lied to Will. And maybe Will wasn’t outright lying. Not admitting his feelings to Tom wasn’t lying because he had never asked ,right? It was just denial. Part of Will wondered if he would rather live in denial then get rejected by Tom. But, unless Tom confessed to him first or asked Will if he liked him, it wasn’t lying. And Will could live with that. He just never wanted to hurt Tom, and he worried that his feelings could. The last thing Will wanted to do was make Tom uncomfortable.

But Will lost himself in his most frequent daydream of Tom. They would go to see a film, something cheesy. One of them would get popcorn, the other one would get a drink for them to share. Will liked his popcorn with a lot of butter, and he made a mental note to ask Tom how he liked his popcorn made. Then, when they got into the theater, they would sit together and hold hands, pressing as close together as they could with the arm-rest in between them. Will would lay his head on Tom’s shoulder. Tom would look down, tilt his face up and-

“Ready to go?”

Will jumped and turned to find Tom next to him.

“I- uh- sorry- yes, yes I’m ready to go let me just...let me just grab my back real quick. I’ll meet you outside,” he stuttered, suddenly flustered. Will facepalmed as Tom turned around, then got up and made his way down the aisle to his bag. Lauri stopped him with a gentle arm on the shoulder.

“Hey, Will. I just wanted to let you know that I broke up with Tom. I knew he was going to do it anyway, I mean he never shut up about you.” She laughed, but the smile fell from her face when she saw that Will wasn’t laughing.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked quietly, looking around to see that they were the only two people in the room.

“What, you don’t know? Nevermind, then. Got to go, bye!” She grabbed Will’s bag and pressed it into his chest, pushing him up past the rows of chairs, trying to get him out the door. She pushed Will into the hallway. Before he could ask her a question about her ominous statement, she was running out the side door to Sara’s car. 

“Oi, what was that about?” Tom asked, walking with Will to the main door of the building. 

“No idea,” he answered truthfully. He opened his mouth to ask Tom what Lauri’s comment could have meant, but he realized it could make him uncomfortable. And again, that was the last thing Will wanted. He told himself that he was allowed to think about it- because, boy, was he going to think about it- but he wouldn’t allow himself to talk about it. To anyone, not even Lauri or Sara. 

But he definitely did think about it.

-

The cast stood together in a circle, holding hands. They looked towards their director and listened to her talk about how far they come, how proud of them she was. After she finished, everyone did vocal and physical warm ups, looking quite silly in their puffy sleeves and tunics and dresses. The group got in a circle once more and did a wave of their arms, a tradition in the department. Then everyone went to their places.

-

Will had been approached by Mrs. Wilson around two hours before the show, asking him if he was prepared to step in for Horatio. He asked why, and that second saw Everett walking out of the dressing room looking terribly ill. He got sick very frequently for some reason, nobody knew why. 

“He has a 39.4 degree fever and he just about vomited when standing up. There’s no way he can do it. Please, please tell me you know the lines…?” She was practically begging him, but Will didn’t need much convincing. He had been ready from day one. 

While other understudies came to rehearsal to see their friends and mess around, Will watched and learned the scenes. He wrote down where he needed to stand, what he needed to do. He learned every line and every pause. Will knew the script like the back of his hand. He nodded and went to get his costume on.

“Tom,” he He said nervously, walking up to his friend. “I’m going to…. I’m going to be Horatio tonight.” They both stood there for a moment in silence before Tom was hugging him, then running around telling everyone that Will was gonna be Horatio. Will didn’t think anyone cared nearly as much as Tom did, but he got smiles and pats on the back. 

He pulled on his costume and went to join the rest of the cast.

-

“I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him.”

Will gives a curt nod before exiting stage left. The second he’s off stage Tom smiles wide and pats him on the back excitedly. They only had a few seconds before returning back for the final scene, so Tom took a small sip of water before throwing the plastic bottle over to Jon.

“Till then, in patience our proceeding be.”

That was their line. Will’s brain was running one hundred miles a minute. What if he messed up this scene? It was the final one and they hadn’t really run the blocking yet, was he completely sure he knew where to stand? Were his parents in the audience? Was Tom’s family in the audience? What did they think so far? What would they think?

Oh god, what will they think?

Before he could self-destruct completely, Tom’s quiet voice next to him brought him back to reality. 

“Let’s fuckin’ do this.” He jumped on the balls of his feet before snapping into character and returning back onto the stage. 

-

Will forgot about his anxieties as he got wrapped up in the scene unfolding around him. By now the characters of Claudius, Gertrude, Laertes, and Osric were around them. Tom held his dueling sword in hand, standing at attention. Across from him, James did the same. 

“Come on, sir.” Hamlet lifted his shoulders, we haven’t got all day. 

“Come, my lord.” Laertes bounced forward, and the two fell into a choreographed duel. 

The audience watched as the two fought. Hamlet was unaware that Laertes’ blade is dipped in poison, and one hit would kill him. If not, King Claudius had a cup full of poison to toast Hamlet to if he won the duel. 

“Stay; give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine;   
Here's to thy health.   
Give him the cup,” Cooke demanded, raising his arm to alert a nearby servant of his need.

“I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile.” Tom shook his head, and he and James walked in a circle around each other, swords still raised at attention. They fought again. 

Gertrude was becoming more and more frantic. She wiped her brow with a handkerchief before attempting to reach for the drink, unaware of the fatal outcome that lay ahead. 

Again, the duel continued. James disarmed Tom and delivers a blow to his arm, one that would not have been fatal had the blade not been poisoned. Tom pushed him back, grabbed the sword and cut a line into his abdomen. James cried out, turning away from the audience so they couldn’t see that he wasn’t actually hurt. 

The attention was taken away from the dying Laertes as Queen Gertrude fell. 

“No, no, the drink, the drink,--O my dear Hamlet,--  
The drink, the drink! I am poison'd,” Sara gasped, and reached out to Hamlet before going still, her extended arm limp.

“It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain;  
No medicine in the world can do thee good;  
In thee there is not half an hour of life.” Laertes said, gesturing to the blades. “Here I lie,  
Never to rise again: thy mother's poison'd:  
I can no more: the king, the king's to blame.”

Hamlet whipped around, clutching his sword. He eyed down the king, who cowered in fear. 

“The point!--envenom'd too!  
Then, venom, to thy work.” He stabbed Claudius. “Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane,  
Drink off this potion. Is thy union here?  
Follow my mother.” 

Cooke drank the poisoned cup, he coughed and sputtered, then died. 

Laertes lay on the floor, holding his wound. “He is justly served;  
It is a poison temper'd by himself.  
Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet:  
Mine and my father's death come not upon thee,  
Nor thine on me.” Peacefully, his head lulled to the side, and he stopped moving. 

As Hamlet realizes he is dying, he finds Horatio for comfort. Realizing the poisonous drink has enough left to finish it off, Hamlet drinks it before Horatio can stop him. Tom falls, being caught swiftly by Will. They settled on the floor, Tom’s head in Will’s lap.

“O, I die, Horatio;  
The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit: I cannot live to hear the news from England;  
But I do prophesy the election lights  
On Fortinbras.” Tom tried to sit up, but groaned and fell back, and only their faces were closer. Will grabbed at his shoulder with his left hand as the other enveloped Tom’s hand in his own. His large palm was pressing to the back of the smaller boy's hand, fingers snaking through Tom’s. 

“He has my dying voice;  
So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less,  
Which have solicited. The rest is silence.”

Will thought back to the day in the treehouse, how close they were. He knew what he had to do. His tongue ran over his bottom lip quickly. 

“Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:  
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss onto Tom’s forehead. Will could feel the boy's breath hitch as his lips brushed against his face. Although he tried to hide it, Tom smiled. Will’s hands snaked from his shoulders to cradling Tom’s head once more, laying him down against the cool wood of the stage. Their fingers unlinked, and Will’s stomach sank. He hadn’t realized how invested in the scene he was until he had to reach up and wipe a tear from running down his cheek.

-

The minute both of them were offstage, Tom was whooping and jumping and hugging Will, showering him with praises. Will allowed himself a moment to laugh, hugging Tom back, though he was really thinking about Tom in a different way. The closeness on stage, the way Tom looked into Will’s eyes, how they reached for each other’s hands. Most of it wasn’t instructed to them, but the two knew each other so well they knew what the other one was going to do. They knew why they were getting so close, holding eachothers hands like they were the ones actually dying. They knew why it felt right for Will to kiss Tom, for him to give one last longing look before continuing on with the scene. And why, even as he exited the scene, he glanced back at Tom, lying on the stage.

Will adored Tom, he always had. But his heart had swelled when he gazed at Tom one final time. The loose curl not held back by gel falling across his forehead, touching the very top of his eyebrow. His pink cheeks unusually hot, glistening slightly under the bright stage lights from sweat. Will’s eyes had traveled down the curved of Tom’s face to his lips,still wet from the water he’d just drank, and slightly parted. 

Will’s chest rose and fell in steady beats, a breathing exercise taught by their director for dead characters who should not be obviously breathing. 4 counts in, hold for 6, 4 counts out, repeat. Tom was never very good at this, and the nervousness from Will kissing his forehead hadn’t made it better. He’d just breathed slowly. The hand rested on Tom’s chest had gone up and down, up and down. Will could tell he’d been thinking more about the scene they just did rather than looking like an authentic dead person. A smile had threatened to raise on Will’s face and he’d realized he had been staring too long. He’d looked away and exited the stage, thoughts of Tom flooding his mind. 

-

After taking their final bow, the cast was supposed to go back to their dressing rooms and change out of their costumes, makeup, and microphones before they went home. Tom dragged Will away from the crowd, taking him down one of the backstage hallways. A dark hall with a door at the end. Will stopped him. 

“I know whatever you are about to do isn’t a good idea,”

Tom nodded. 

“And you’re probably not gonna take no for an answer.”

He nodded again. 

“But let’s at least take our microphones off” Will offered. He reached up to his cheek and unstuck the first piece of tape, then moved to the second one on the back of his neck. He grunted as the tape pulled small hairs from the nape of his neck, but ripped it off regardless. Tom did the same. They both realized at the same time what would have to happen next. In order to not harm the microphones, someone else must reach up your shirt and pass the wire through. The microphone pack it was connected to was clipped to the boys’ underwear. 

Without saying a word, Will moved behind Tom. He lifted up his shirt enough to where he could get his hand up. His fingers brushed against Tom’s spine in the dark, and Tom shivered, inhaling sharply. 

“Oi, cold hands!” he gasped, that same vocal inflections coming through as it had in the treehouse, voice going up in pitch. 

“Sorry,” Will muttered, going slower. He finally grabbed the mic after reaching painfully slow, careful so as not to make Tom cold again,though Will knew he had both goosebumps and flaming cheeks. 

Now it was Will’s turn, and he offered more help by lifting up his own shirt. Despite not ever touching, he could feel Tom’s hand as it moved parallel to his back, following the rubber wire cover up to his neck. Tom tugged and realized a piece of extra tape hadn’t been removed. Putting a hand on Will’s waist to keep him steady, he removed the tape and dragged the wire out. They didn’t move from that position for a few moments, and it wasn’t until Will’s hand met Tom’s that he even noticed it was still there. Holding gently onto Tom’s hand, Will turned around. Barely more than figures in the dark, they managed to find each other’s eyes. Blue on blue, staring intently. Tom’s mouth closed, he swallowed. 

“Will,” he whispered, “follow me. Set your mic down. Jus’ there.” He gestured with his hand, removing it from Will’s. Will took both of their microphone packs and set them down. By the time he looked up, Tom was gone and the door stood wide open. 

-

The juliets are an elevated platform, raised above the stage to the right and left about fifteen feet above ground. They’re covered by the audience by a removable curtain, which now hung closed. Through the door, Tom led Will up the ladder in the dimly lit room. They weren’t supposed to be back there, but Tom was never doing what he was supposed to. (Personally, Will found it endearing, he’d never been one to get into trouble himself). 

It was nothing fancy, just a platform looking out onto the now empty stage. As both boys stood there, backs pressed against the wall, it filled Will with a bit of bittersweet sadness. He gazed at the stage longingly, loving the thrill of being in front of so many people. Before his thoughts could wonder, a hand was placed on top of his own. Tom’s hand was smaller in comparison to Will’s long fingers and large palm. 

He looked at Will, but Will just stared at their hands. Slowly shifting his hand, he turned his palm over. Their hands were now intertwined just as they had been during the show. Will looked up, and just as he did, Tom leaned forward and pressed his lips into Will’s. Or rather, attempted to. He didn’t miss completely, but rather got the corner of Will’s lips. Surprisingly, Tom was the one who pulled apart first. 

“Oh, God. ‘M sorry. Is- was that okay?” he stuttered. 

In response, Will gripped Tom’s hand tighter and flipped his body around so he was looking down at Tom. One hand found Tom’s jawline, his thumb reaching under his chin to angle his chin up slightly. Their noses touched, then Will used his hand to guide Tom’s face forward, connecting their lips fully. After a second, they both let their shoulders relax. Tom kissed him deeper, but Will had to pull away to breathe. 

“Yeah,” Will whispered, “That is very much okay.”

-

Just as they had done during the costume day, the group went and got food together after the show had finished. It took so long for Will to convince his father to let him go, promising he’d leave before anyone else did so he would get home on time. 

The two boys sat together on one side of a booth. They still had their backpacks from school and used the other booth to hold them, even though if they’d just sat in their individual seats they could easily have room for another backpack. But sitting across from each other was no fun when you were dating someone. You couldn’t secretly hold hands under the table or bump your knees together when one of you said a funny joke. Tom intertwined their fingers, rubbing circles with his thumb on Will’s. It made Will blush bright red, a huge smile on his face. It was apparent he was trying to hide his smile, but it had been put away for so long. There was no use in quieting it down now, with nobody here to see him. 

“Happy?” Tom asked as he squeezed Will’s hand, looking at the menu. 

“Always.” It was a simple answer, but it was one that filled the silence and made Tom feel warm inside. 

“Hey- what are you thinkin’ of ordering?” Tom asked, nudging Will’s shoulder.

“Mmm, I just like plain cheese pizza, so I was just going to get that.”

Tom looked at him incredulously. “Plain cheese? That’s so boring! Silly Willy, you need to live a little. Get some meat on those bones.”

“I’m allergic.” He deadpanned. Tom’s eyes got wide with embarrassment and he started apologizing, but stopped when he realized Will had a huge smile on his face.

“You asshole! I was worried I said the wrong thing,” Tom laughed, squeezing Will’s hand. He muttered under his breath. “Fucker.”

They ended up ordering a half cheese, half pepperoni. For someone who was teasing Will about being boring, Tom’s order was equally as basic. 

“I have to take a bus home because my parents don’t want to pick me up. I told them I’d be home at nine but I’m gonna try to get home at around eight-thirty so... it doesn’t happen again.” Will trailed off, clearly insecure at his father’s actions. Tom just rubbed circles on his thumb to comfort him, tell him it was okay. 

“I’ll get on the bus with you. Make sure you get there safely.”

“Thank you.” 

They ate their dinner and talked. About school, their crazy teachers, weird students, and rehearsal stories. 

As the conversation slowed, they started to pay and leave the restaurant. They stood outside under the streetlamps, lights barely illuminating their faces. A dark shadow cast across Will’s nose, the small bump in the middle accentuating the darkness. Tom gazed at his sparse freckles, fitting his cheeks and face in clusters. He suddenly felt the urge to take Will’s hands in his face, kiss each freckle, each imperfection. He wanted to hold Will the way his mother never did, wanted Will to feel how long he had been waiting for this moment. 

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve always been right here,” Will smiled, cocking his head.

“You know what I mean.” His hand moved to cup Will’s face, then moved up to his hair. It was getting long, he hadn’t been allowed to cut it during the show. Tom didn’t mind, he loved it. How it got slightly curly, a small ringlet hanging across his forehead. The two were far enough from the restaurant and the view of their friends to be able to be seen, so Tom brushed the curl out of his face, standing on his tip-toes slightly to press a kiss on Will’s mouth. It was softer than the one in the theater. Tom could feel Will smiling slightly, and he flushed red. 

They pulled away after a long few seconds, still close. Tom’s hand fell from Will’s hair to his chest, and he leaned against Will. The taller one wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, and they stood at the bus stop for a peaceful moment. Just two boys under the moonlight, completely enamored with each other. In each other’s arms in a moment of tranquility. 

They paid their fees and sat at the back of the bus, bags held on their laps. The seats were small and close together, causing the boys’ shoulders to touch. Will edged his finger over, trying to imply that he wanted to hold Tom’s hand without saying it. Obviously growing up in an affection-opposed household made it difficult for Will to express his love to people in a way that was obvious to them. 

To him, love was sitting together in a warm room, reading books and sipping coffee. Writing stories or poems about each other, drawing pictures and hanging them up in your shared treehouse. It was talking late into the night, confessing your secrets and deepest memories. But Will knew Tom well enough to know that his idea of love was holding hands and soft kisses in the dark. It was holding the other person and whispering soft words in their ear. Rocking them back and forth when they’re sad, calling them pet names. So Will did what he could to give to Tom. He would always give Tom whatever he needed. 

Will felt himself drifting off, the rumble of the bus mixed with Tom’s warmth lulling him to sleep. Tom looked over to tell Will something, but found the boy fast asleep on his shoulder, head rolled over. He looked peaceful, mouth parted slightly, his breaths steady. Tom covered Will’s hand with his own, lacing their fingers together. He sat there, past his stop. Tom didn't want to wake Will, he looked like he needed the sleep. The dark circles under his eyes had become more purple, and he was constantly rubbing his sleepy eyes. As much as Tom adored the daytime sleepiness, he knew Will wouldn't want him to wake him up. He only nudged Will awake a few minutes before he was supposed to get off. 

“Willy, you got to get off now, love. Wake up. Will.” He had to nudge Will a few more times before he fully woke up. “Wake up, sleepy head.”

“Hey…” Will mumbled groggily. Even after only 30 minutes of sleep he was a bit disoriented when he woke. “Why are you here? Don’t you get off before me? Did I fall asleep?!”

Tom giggled quietly, squeezing Will’s hand. “Yes, you fell asleep. On me. I couldn’t get up because your big head was on my shoulder.” He gently tapped his knuckles against Will’s head. “Kidding. But I didn’t want to wake you. Your stop is in a few minutes.”

Will hummed a thank you and laid his head back onto Tom’s shoulder, but kept his eyes open. He nuzzled his head deeper into the crook of Tom’s neck, and eventually Tom moved to putting his arm around Will’s shoulders. They sat like that, pressed close, for a long few minutes before the bus stopped and Will had to go home. He hesitated, not wanting to leave Tom. 

Tom looked around and saw that nobody was looking before kissing Will quickly. Both of their faces got red, and Tom pushed Will to get out of his seat. Will stood up and made his way toward the front of the bus, looking back once before getting off. Even after, he stood on the sidewalk and waved to Tom before turning around and heading back home. 

Tom sat back, finally let himself relax and think of what the fuck just happened. One moment he’d been whispering to Will off stage, the next he was in his arms. It made no sense to Tom. How could someone like Will like someone like Tom. Will was quiet and intellectual, didn’t show his true feelings much. Tom was silly and loud, always telling stories. They were complete opposites. ‘No, not opposites, we compliment each other.’ 

Opposites wouldn’t hold each other because that’s what they knew they both needed. Opposites wouldn’t be able to feel the other person's feelings deep inside them, understanding them so well. Opposites wouldn’t know what the other is thinking. But Tom and Will weren’t opposites. They were different. But like two connecting puzzle pieces are different, they fit together. They were the sun and the moon. Just because one sparkled during the day and the other glimmered when it was dark didn’t take away how bright they shined. The world was theirs, and they lit the way for each other. As long as their lover was walking in the light it didn’t matter if they were tripping in the dark.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is monster of a chapter with just fluff and shit

The beginning part of a relationship is always the best part. No problems, no arguments, just lingering glances and short kisses in the dark corners of the treehouse, away from any prying eyes. 

On their first time back at the treehouse since that day above the stage, Will sat under a leafless cherry tree, book open in his lap. He had recently checked out “The Tao of Pooh” from the library, a book Tom had mentioned he loved when he was a kid. The book used the character from A. A. Milne’s stories of Winnie the Pooh and his friends, Piglet, Tigger, Eeyore, etc. to explain Taoism. From what Will understood, Taoism was used in Chinese culture to explain how to live in harmony on the path life sets you. Pooh enjoyed the adventurous experiences life sets him on, Owl over complicated and overthought, and Eeyore fretted about the existence of life, unable to just be. 

Will liked that about Tom. He was able to just go with the path life put him on. Tom marched to the beat of his own drums, made his own rules. It might get him in trouble sometimes but Will thinks about his own life. Tom spent his afternoons in a treehouse or picking cherries or running around town with friends. Before he’d met Tom, Will’s pastime was spent hovering over a desk or with his nose in a book. And Will had enjoyed that at the time. He was comfortable and didn’t want to leave his little comfort square. 

It wasn’t until Tom had forced himself in, told Will to step, and then transformed the comfort square into a treehouse, that Will had thought about anything more than school and studying. He wasn’t living to please his parents anymore, he was living for himself. Living for Tom. Tom hadn’t changed Will, per se, only changed his perception of the world, of life. Before, he had seen life as one big, looping ring. Every day was the same, do the same things with the same people, over and over. Life threw you problems, but you had to stay on the same path. 

Tom showed him that there was more to life than doing the same things with the same people. He’d thrown a rock into the gears of life’s machinery and forged his own path. And Will followed, he would follow Tom anywhere.

The cool breeze tousled his hair as he read, soaking up the words and the imagery. A figure covered the light above him, and Will was met with Tom’s kind face. 

“Mind if I sit?” As always, there was a small smile on his face, the skin around his eyes wrinkled. Without waiting for an answer, he plopped himself down, pushing backwards until Will’s chest met Tom’s back. He relaxed into Will’s lap, settling his head against his boyfriend's shoulder. Will leaned down resting his chin against Tom’s head, his hair tickling his chin. They sat like that for a while. Will read his book while Tom played with something in his hands. He would sit up every once in a while to lean forward and grab something in front of him before settling back down. He hummed as he worked, from classical music to old jazz to songs Will had never heard before. Suddenly, he sat up and turned to face Will, legs crossed.

“What have you got there, my little pooh bear?” Will asked quietly, watching as color rose into Tom’s face. The boy leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss into Will’s lips before placing something on his head. A small white petal, the length of Will’s thumbnail fell into his lap. He removed it from his head and realized what Tom had been working on while Will read.

In his hands he held a small chain of daisies. It wrapped in a circle to make a flower crown. Will pressed it back onto his head. 

“I love it,” he smiled, gingerly brushing his fingertips across the dainty petals. Tom’s hand moved to do the same, but his fingers wandered from the petals to his hair, running his fingers through Will’s dusty blond waves. Will leaned into the touch, and it felt like Tom pulled away too soon. They stayed silent, looking at each other for a long moment. 

“You’re readin’ my book.”

“I wanted to know why you liked it so much. Now I understand. You’re like Pooh, loving the adventures life gives you. You helped me realize there’s more than just school and work and pleasing my parents. That life can… actually be enjoyable.” Will smiled softly, brushing the ever persistent curl out of Tom’s eye. He reached up, plucking a flower off the crown and tucking it behind Tom’s ear. The white petals complimented his blue eyes, and the longer Will stared the darker Tom flushed.

Tom’s eyes fluttered closed. He leaned down to rest his head in Will’s lap. He looked relaxed and peaceful, daisies surrounding him. The fallen petals, broken stems, and ones still growing out of the ground. They complimented his blue eyes and rosy cheeks, red from the coolness of the afternoon. The petals fell into his hair, pinky-white against the light brown. They tangled in his curls, and Will picked a few out. “I really like you, you know,” he whispered into the air, his eyes opening slowly.

Will was momentarily taken aback, never hearing this from someone. “I-I’m- I… I really like you too. No matter what.” He and Tom smiled at the same time, fingers intertwining and lips locking. They kissed each other deeply. Tom’s mouth opened slightly, attempting to pursue a more passionate kiss before being interrupted. Will’s watch beeped, but he didn’t stand up. Instead he waited a moment, pressing their foreheads together as they breathed in sync. Will stood up, offering his hand to Tom. He pulled Tom up and enveloped him in a hug, resting his chin on Tom’s fluffy hair. They embraced for a few quiet moments before Tom pulled away.

“You need to go, before your mom gets home. Be safe.” He pressed a quick kiss to Will’s cheek before practically pushing him towards the door. He watched as Will sprinted down the tree orchard, something that had become routine. Tom thought it was therapeutic for Will, something he did to blow off whatever steam he had from that day before going home to face his parents. 

Will had told Tom about his parents a few weeks ago, after having a particularly difficult night with his dad. Apparently, Will’s mom had taken them all out to dinner somewhere downtown and his father had been on the phone the entire time, some business call that ‘couldn’t wait’. Ms. Schofield had gotten angry that he wouldn’t get off the phone, but she didn’t say anything. After dinner, they went out for some sort of dessert- or attempted to. 

Because Will’s mother had been in a bad mood, she was acting passive aggressive and making offhand remarks about Mr. Schofield. They started arguing and his dad threw a tantrum, screaming in the middle of the city about how they never support him and his work and complaining how he has to do everything for everyone (to that, Will had commented, “As if he’s even home 90% of the time,” which made Tom sad). Apparently, this was something that happened frequently with Will’s dad. Something minor inconvenienced him and he blew up. 

Fortunately, Will said he had never hit any of them. Tom didn’t know what he would do if that was the case. But he did yell at Will and his mother a lot. Either calling them names or lashing out in public, and instead of standing up for herself and her son, Will’s mother told Will to learn to deal with it, that it was just the way he was. It was part of the reason Will stayed so quiet in classes, especially Leslie’s class. Anyone humiliating him made him think of home, and when he thought of home his chest got tight and his throat closed up. 

Tom had wrapped his arms around Will’s waist, resting his chin on the taller boy's chest. He had held Will how he thought he needed to be held, how he thought nobody had held him before. And he was right. A few moments later Will moved one hand up to his face, a small sniffle escaping him. His other hand moved to Tom’s head, keeping it pressed against his chest. He figured it was so Will wouldn’t let Tom see him cry, so Tom respected his boundaries and stayed in his place, listening to the steadying heartbeat of his boyfriend. 

-

Will tucked the flower crown away in a small box in his closet, where he kept his Special Things. Pictures of places he’d gone, stuffed animals he loved, his school award certificates. Finally, he had something to add that came from a friend. He was glad it was Tom.

-

The week after a show was always cleanup day. Set pieces, costumes, trash left from rehearsals, it was all thrown out or put away for the next show. Tom always had a hard time letting go, the thought that their hard work was taken down so abruptly upset him. But then he remembered how the crowd cheered and how the group celebrated after completing their shows and it made it all worth it. 

The cast dispersed across the different areas. A group was put on organizing costumes, one was put on dismembering the set, one on cleaning out trash from backstage and in the audience.

Unfortunately, Tom’s group was put on trash duty. It was their usual group, Will, Sara, Lauri, and Tom. Things were no longer awkward between Lauri and Tom, the performance forcing them to forget the petty conflict they were having before. It was nice to have their small group getting along again, all together telling jokes and laughing loudly. Although, partway through the cleaning day, Will noticed that Lauri and Sara were getting along a little too well. When the girls got out of earshot of Tom and Will, he leaned over and whispered to Tom.

“What’s up with them?” 

“Uh, nothin’? Why, is somethin’ wrong?” Tom said back, louder than Will wanted him to. He shushed Tom and tried to explain what he was thinking.

“I don’t know, something just seems different. They seem closer than usual.” Will shrugged, grasping at what exactly was off about the pair.

“They’ve always been that close, Sara is just wearin’ Lauri’s sweatshirt,” Tom shrugged, almost brushing the answer off. A moment passed before the boys whipped around to face each other, a knowing look passing between them before they glanced over at Lauri and Sara. Sara fiddled with the hoodie strings, laughing at some joke Lauri was telling. Tom’s suspicious eyes trailed over the girls, then returned back to Will’s. “Well now I wanna know…”

“I’m not asking them, that’s weird.” Will shrugged shyly, and Tom glared at him.

“We are all friends, why is it weird?” He asked, looking once more at the pair of girls. “If you don’t wanna ask them, then I will.” Tom started to make his way over to Lauri.

“Tom what are you-” Will started, but Tom shushed him.

“Just wait,” He walked over to the girls and asked Lauri for help on something in another room. Will could tell where this was going.

After a few minutes of awkward silence between Will and Sara, Tom and Lauri returned. Lauri’s cheeks were tinted pink and Tom was smirking like he just won an award.

“I knew it!” He exclaimed, a cocky smile arising from his lips.

In sync, Sara and Will let out an exasperated ‘oh my god’ before rolling their eyes and turning back to their work.

“We should double date!” Tom gasped, expecting to have the idea shot down quickly. Much to his surprise, everyone let out their assorted agreements. 

“Sara works at a roller skating rink down on Main Street, we should all go there!” Lauri smiled excitedly. Will chuckled nervously, never gone skating before. But he found relief in Tom’s eyes, finding them equally as nervous.

Before Tom had a chance to object, Will grinned, “We’ll be there. How about tomorrow night? I’m free,”

Everyone nodded in agreement, then returned back to their work of sweeping the prop room. It was littered with dust and ribbon and other discarded pieces of props. The group took turns telling their favorite moments from shows, doing different impressions of their friends, and telling stories about previous shows. 

-

Sara picked the group up at 5 pm, driving down to the main area of town to get to the skate rink. They got their skates, Will and Tom struggling to put theirs on. Lauri teased the boys as she properly tied their skates, tutting them for needing women to do everything for them.

“Lauri, so do you- you’re dating a girl,” Tom teased back, causing Lauri to stick her tongue out at him. They laughed, and Will suddenly felt insecure. He felt like he was intruding, that this was an already established friendship that he pushed his way into. But then Lauri started tying his own skates, joking with him the same way that she had with Tom and his insecurities eased. He was relieved that they wouldn’t treat him any different, he was a part of their friend group too.

Tom took his hand and tried to stand up, but his legs wobbled as he tried to find his balance. His legs did little scissoring motions and his arms flailed slightly. Eventually he was able to stand up straight, and now tried to help Will up. Despite being taller and lankier than Tom, Will was able to find his balance easier. They both gripped the wall, lowering their feet into the circular rink. 

There weren’t many people there, only Tom, Lauri, Sara, Will, and one other small group of three friends. Lauri and Sara held hands as they skated around, talking and laughing quietly. They looked graceful, like they were floating. Tom and Will on the other hand, looked like giraffes on ice skates. They grabbed each other for balance, which just threw the other one off. 

Tom fell hard on his ass as Will pinwheeled his arms to stay upright. He laughed at a pouting Tom on the floor, struggling to get to his feet. Eventually, both were able to get on their feet and do small push-offs to get the wheels rolling. It took about 10 minutes to get around the ring, and they each fell multiple times, but it was fun nonetheless. Everytime Lauri and Sara passed them, they would tease the boys or do a little spin, showing off. 

Will took Tom’s hand, and pushed off the wall they were leaning against for stability. Tom panicked momentarily, but relaxed into Will’s side. They moved their feet in sync, left foot push, right foot push, left foot push, repeat. Both boys were doing decently, their slipping and sliding lessened from every few inches to every few feet. 

It wasn’t until Sara zoomed by them, Lauri not far behind that they were thrown off their balance. Will gasped in surprise, letting go of Tom’s hand. He felt forward, turning so that he would land in a sitting down position instead of face planting. Will slid slightly, mouth falling open to let out a loud laugh.

It was a sound Tom didn’t think he had heard before, a type of laugh that Will never had at  
school or around his friends. It made a smile spread across Tom’s face. That smile was quickly replaced with fear as he found himself tumbling towards the floor with Will. His hands shot out in front of him at the last second, catching him from falling onto his chest. Will and Tom laughed and rubbed their aching arms and backs. 

They tried for another minute to stand up before reverting to crawling on their hands and knees off the rink. Both boys were sweaty and giggly, struggling to get their skates off so that they could walk normally. Once they untied the seemingly endless rows of shoelaces, both boys made their way to their feet. 

The change from being on wheels to being on normal footing threw Will off, and he leaned against Tom to get his balance. Tom put an arm around his torso and let them both to a table pushed against the wall. Lauri and Sara joined them a few minutes later, trying to take off their own skates. 

“So wait, when did you two get together?” Tom asked, leaning his head against Will’s shoulder. 

“Hm,” Lauri hummed, “It was the week before the show, right after we.. yeah.” She and Tom made awkward eye contact before chuckling quietly. “You?”

“The final show,” Tom smiled over at Will, who blushed a bright shade of pink. “To be honest, I’m glad that we are just friends. You seem a lot happier with Sara and I’m definitely happier with Will.”

The girls smiled and took hands. Sara went off on some tangent, changing the subject. But Will was still caught up on what Tom said. He didn’t realize how much he needed to hear someone say that he meant that much to them. Will squeezed Tom’s hand, and brought it up to his mouth to press a soft kiss into it. Tom smiled shyly and nudged Will in fake annoyance. 

“Ugh, gross! PDA!” Sara joked as she wrapped her arm around Lauri and pulled her closer, planting a soft kiss into the mess of curly hair on her girlfriend's head.

“Oh shut up, stop being cute,” Lauri giggled and pushed Sara lightly. Will relished at the simplicity of the moment, being close and happy with his group of friends. Nothing made him happier. 

-

Tom and Will walked home from school as they always did, but now they held hands. Every day, Will hooked his pinkie finger with Tom’s. It was his way of saying he wanted to hold hands with Tom without initiating it or straight up saying he did. It worked for them, Will could get what he wanted and not be put on the spot or overwhelmed, and Tom could understand Will better and almost have a heart attack every time Will reached for his pinkie because it was so damn cute. 

Tom would talk and hold his hands, swinging his arms. Will would just listen to him, watch as he talked and moved his hands, how his lips moved and his eyebrows raised. That was something he could just do now; watchTom. He would just stare at him, take in the fine details of his face. His small nose, blue eyes that were brighter than the sky, and the persistent curl that fell gracefully over his forehead.

They approached the house and found Mama Blake unloading groceries from her car. The boys ran inside and set their bags down so they could help her unload. Brown paper bags full of fruits, bread, milk, and a few other ingredients. 

“Mum, what are you makin’?This is smaller than your usual load,” Tom asked, balancing three large bags. Will scooped up one just as it was about to tumble to the ground. 

“Chocolate pies, would you and Will like to help?” she answered, starting to unload the bags onto the counters. 

Before Tom could object, Will responded enthusiastically. “Of course we will, Mrs. Blake.” 

She turned around, hands on hips, and looked down at Will.

“Sorry- Mama Blake,” he laughed nervously, glancing over at Tom, who had his face in his hands.

“Mum! Why d’you always make him call you that.” Tom rolled his eyes, but went to help her unload the bags. 

“Because, I love all your friends,” Will and Tom made eye contact, as they always did when someone made a comment about their friendship, now that they were together. It was their little secret. “And besides, he’s over here so often you might as well be brothers or something.” Their eyes widened in sync and they had to look away, falling into a fit of giggles.

“Mum, no!” 

Mama Blake looked at them, obviously not getting the joke. This just made them laugh harder, and after a few minutes Will was trying to pull Tom up from the floor because he was laughing so hard. “What? I don’t understand,” Mama Blake asked, turning back to unload the groceries. 

“Nothing,” Tom said through breathless laughs. “It’s nothing.” 

Once they were calmed down, Will saw Mama Blake taking a piece of paper out of a box. It was a recipe box, and the ingredients needed for the pie were printed in looping cursive.

“We can make it, why don’t you go rest? You went and got all the ingredients, we are able to make the pie for you,” Will smiled and led her to the living room, where the couch was. She gave him the recipe paper, and he went back to the kitchen.

“Well, I hope you know how to bake,” Tom whispered sneeringly, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

“Why would I know how to bake, you’re the one with the mom,” Will joked back, and Tom snorted out a laugh.

“Thing is, she never taught me how to bake. I was always more of a daddy's boy.” He popped the collar of his shirt jokingly, smiling over at Will. “And besides, she always just made us stuff, never really wanted anyone to help.” He shrugged, taking the paper from Will. He intertwined their pinkies while he read the paper, swinging their hands slightly. They had to make the pie crust first. 

They poured in flour and salt, making sure to mix the cold butter and shortening in until it made a crumbly figure. The recipe said to use forks to smash it together while adding tablespoons of water. Tom stabbed the crumbs with the prongs of the fork while Will poured in the water and smoothed it down with the flat bottom of his fork, like he was supposed to. 

Tom leaned against the counter again, feigning fatigue. “Why don’ I just entertain you while you do the work?” he offered.Will glared at him and Tom pouted slightly, making Will relent.

“Whatever, but if you don’t entertain me well enough, then you’re fired.”

“Okay then- be right back!” Tom was gone for a few minutes, and Will was starting to think he had run off and left Will to do the work. Then he slid across the tile, a glittery cape hanging from his back and a magician's hat perched on his head. 

“Welcome, welcome everyone! The name’s Thomas Blake and I will be doing magic for you tonight.” Will’s snorting laughter interrupted him, and Tom gave him the side eye. “You there, good sir. Do you have somethin’ to say about my awesomeness? How dare you mock me, I am above you.”

“I think you’re shorter than me, though.”

“I’m tryin to say that I’m a god, dumbass.”

Will continued to mold the dough, trying to not make it too sticky (like the recipe said) and only slightly failing. He reached over and booped Tom on the nose, a piece of warm dough sticking to his face. He screeched and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Tom started speaking loudly, like someone at a carnival might. He did bad magic tricks, attempting to pull rainbow scarves out of his sleeves even though he was wearing short sleeves, planting a stuffed animal rat under his hat and pulling it out. They were bad, but they did make Will laugh, so Tom achieved something. 

After Will found a pie pan, he put the crust in, smoothing it out against the outside for a pretty wrinkled effect. He ended up just smooshing it and overlapping most of the crust, so it didn’t look as pretty as he thought it would be. Now, onto the actual filling. Tom had to help Will find the measuring cups to measure the sugar, cocoa powder, and other ingredients. 

While Will was mixing, Tom was continuing his magic show. He was attempting (for the 5th time) to do a sleight of hand trick with a card, but couldn’t seem to get it right. Will teased him, still mixing together the ingredients. Suddenly he felt two hands at his sides, fingers dancing back and forth, tickling him. Will jumped and cried out, trying to push Tom’s hands away. His hands stayed, tickling Will’s side. 

In between breathless laughs he tried to talk. “Tom… please! Stop it. Stop it!” he giggled, again trying to force Tom’s hands away. Finally he stopped, leaving Will’s stomach feeling achy and sore. 

“Now I will do another magic trick. Stand here,” Tom instructed, and pulled Will to the center of the kitchen. Will did as he was told, standing and looking down at Tom. His boyfriend's hands fell over his eyes. “You have to close your eyes.”

“What kind of magic trick is this? I feel like I’m gonna get robbed,” Will joked, but Tom stayed silent. After Will stopped talking, he felt Tom’s hands on his face. Tom cupped Will’s face, thumb running from the bridge of his nose to his cheekbones and jaw down to his lips. Finally, his hand moved to the back of Will’s neck and brought his head down, connecting their lips. Tom’s other hand pressed against Will’s chest, leading him back until he was pressed up against the counter. After a moment he released Will’s neck, leaving his hand on his chest and resting his head against his shoulder. 

“Hey, Tom, guess what?” Will whispered into his ear, sending electricity down his spine.

“What?” Tom whispered back, looking up at Will.

“You have to help me mix the batter together.” He smiled slyly and returned to the mixing, linking his pinky with Tom’s. They preheated the oven, then spent longer than they should have attempting to crack the eggs and open the evaporated milk tin. A few egg shells got into the mixture, but they didn’t think Mama Blake would notice. Tom kept trying to add extra chocolate chips they had, but Will kept telling him that’s not what the recipe calls for, swatting his hand away like he was a toddler. Tom decided he would much rather eat the chocolate chips, so he planted himself on the cool surface of the counter, swinging his legs and trying to catch the small pieces of chocolate in his and Will’s mouth. 

The crust was tearing slightly and the batter was too thin, but as they put the pie into the oven, both boys were very proud. Nobody got hurt, nothing got broken, and the pie was in the oven. Now all they had to do was wait. After relaxing on the sofa for a little under an hour, Mama Blake went and took the pie out of the oven. She complimented them, but said it would be another hour before they could eat it because they had to let it cool and harden. 

So, Tom and Will went up to Tom’s room. Whereas Will’s room was clean and mostly organized, Tom had stuff everywhere. It wasn’t dirty, per se, but it was just filled with things. Drawings hung on the wall, paper and art supplies on his desk, scripts cluttering the floor, a small casing that held rocks (labeled ‘rock collection’, which was filled with different shiny rocks of all shapes and sizes and colors). The more you looked at one place the more you noticed. Feathers from birds on top of the rock case, at least one candle on every flat surface, multiple snowglobes visible in the open closet. It was messy and it was chaotic, but it was Tom.

“Welcome to m’ humble abode, ‘pologies for not cleanin’ up but this is the cleanest it’ll get,” Tom shrugged, bouncing onto his bed. Will stood by the door awkwardly, unsure if Tom wanted him sitting on his bed. After a moment,Tom looked up, offering his hand out to Will. Will took it and Tom led him to sit down next to him. Will looked at the dozens of drawings that lined the wall, drawings of Joe and Mrs. Blake, drawings of Tom and his friends, drawings of unrecognizable people, unrecognizable places. A different room in the house, a man in a chair with sunlight sweeping through the room. It wasn’t as good at Tom’s other drawings, and Will wondered when he made it. He pointed to the sketch.

“Who’s that?” 

“It’s my dad. That’s one of the last drawin’s I had of him, one of the only ones I like,” Tom said, his voice quieter than usual. Will stayed silent, suddenly regretting asking Tom the question. Will hooked their pinkies together, and Tom linked their hands. They both lay back, heads on one pillow. Their shoulders and thighs pressed together, interlocked hands resting against Tom’s stomach. The steady rise and fall relaxed Will, made him forget about the anxiety of unknowingly asking about Tom’s dead dad. Will and Tom laid like this for a while, silent and breathing in sync.

“He would’ve liked you, y’know,” Tom suddenly said, his voice thick with sadness. Will glanced over and saw a tear run down Tom’s face. He sat up, reaching over and brushed it away with his thumb, gently pressing a kiss right next to his eye. Will’s long fingers ran through Tom’s hair and the smaller boy took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He sniffled, and Will laid back down. He adjusted his arm so that Tom could rest against it, pulling him close. Again, they laid in silence. Tom’s hand moved up to Will’s wrist, feeling his steady pulse against his fingers. Will was here, he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. He was right here, holding Tom. Will wasn’t dead, and neither was Tom. They had beating hearts, and their hearts beat for each other. 

“Talk to me,” he whimpered. “Tell me you’re goin’ to stay here.” 

“I’ll stay here. I’m right here with you.” Will murmured comfortingly. “In a few minutes we will go to the kitchen and eat the delicious chocolate pie we made. I will have to go back home, but I will always be thinking of you. And then I will come back tomorrow. I promise.”

Tom’s tears had stopped as they always did, he never cried much. And having Will there to help made him calm down easier. Eventually they started talking about the different drawings Tom had.

“That’s Cooke, we were friends ever since primary school. But he’s more involved in his own little group, and we haven’t talked since doin’ the show. I don’t mind that much, I’m happy he has his friends. He and James Rossi were always real close, I wonder how they’re doin’ now.” Tom showed the pictures of Joe, the treehouse, cherry blossoms in full bloom. They were all beautiful and alive, despite being pencil sketches on paper. 

Before they knew it, Mama Blake was calling them down. She had three slices of the pie on the table, forks ready. The three ate their slices together. It was surprisingly delicious, despite the slight crunchiness when you found a piece of eggshell and the chewiness of some parts of the crust. But neither mentioned it. 

It was hard going home, difficult to leave Tom and have to wait until the next day to see him, but Will would survive, and so would Tom. Tom couldn’t stop drawing Will after he went home.

-

As usual, the two boys sat together in the treehouse, pressed up against one another on the thin fabric of the hammock. Tom did his math homework using an old hardcover book as a makeshift desk, and Will read “The Tao of Pooh”. Every now and again he would help Tom with a math problem, telling him he multiplied wrong or forgot to do a step. He was done quickly. 

Will knew his grades were slipping because of his inattentiveness to his homework, working on it during lectures or lunch. He was half-assing the work, not going as above and beyond as he had done before. Will was doing the work just to finish it, not retaining much information. But Tom was like a drug, and Will was addicted. He knew he would do anything for Tom, and that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. But as he lay here, wrapped in Tom’s arms, it all seemed worth it. Will was drifting off to sleep when Tom nudged him.

“Hm? What was that, love?” Will mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“I said I have a surprise for you. Remember that first day in the treehouse? When I told you that story ‘bout me ‘n Joe?” He reached into his left pocket, pulling out the crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He flicked it a few times, struggling with the child lock. Finally it sparked to life and the two boys were momentarily hypnotized by the flame. Tom let the flame go out before they both stood up, dragging the wooden chair out onto the makeshift balcony. Will hesitated for a moment, apprehensive about what was going to happen. 

“Can we talk about this first?” he questioned shyly, “I’ve just never done this before, I wanna know what I’m getting into.”

Tom leaned in through the square window, rolling the white paper in between his pointer finger and thumb slowly. “I talked to Joe about it when he was here. He said that you just kinda… inhale- I dunno- and then you’ll feel funny and sort of giggly. Like you’re floating, I guess.”

Will remained still, unsure if this was what he wanted or not.

“If you don’t want to do this you don’t have to, I’m not forcing you to do anythin’,” Tom said softly, making his way back in the door and towards Will. 

“I just don’t want to get in trouble with your mum, I mean, do you think she would be able to tell if we are high?” Will wondered aloud, absentmindedly running his hands through his hair.

“You seem nervous. I’ll put this up for some other time- or throw it away if you want. Will, this is nothin’ to be worried about.” Tom frowned slightly, notout of disapproval for Will’s decision, but for confusion at his anxiousness. 

“I do want to- giggly and floaty sounds… interesting.” Will nodded, letting his teenage curiosity get the best of him. “But we can- we can stop if I want to, right?”

“No, I’m gonna hold you at gunpoint,” Tom joked sarcastically, but returned to his serious nature, “Of course, of course. We can stop whenever you want. The last thing I want to happen is for you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Okay… I think I might want to try it. Just a small amount, I don’t want to have a weed overdose.”

“You can’t have a weed overdose, dumbass,” Tom laughed. He took Will’s hand gently as they walked outside, holding his hand like you would a babies. 

Will sat on the chair and before he knew it, Tom was in his lap, legs dangling over the side of the wooden seat. 

With one arm wrapped around Will’s neck, Tom pushed the joint between his lips. Will held the lighter up, flicking the starter twice before the flame lit. He held it up to the paper for a few seconds, waiting for it to catch onto the joint. When it finally did, Tom inhaled slowly and deeply, closing his eyes. He removed it and inhaled again before blowing the smoke into the cool air, relaxing his body. 

They scrunched up their noses at the smell, looking at each other and giggling. He handed it to Will, who took a drag, letting the smoke out and coughing slightly. Tom chuckled before taking the joint back. 

“You’re s'posed to breathe in twice, so that the smoke can, y’know- do it’s thing.”

“Oh…” Will muttered, ears turning a light shade of pink at the embarrassment. 

“Here, I’ll show you how. Open up,” he whispered quietly, a slight husk to his voice. He reached down and traced Will’s jawline with his thumb, leading down to his chin. Tom gently pressed his chin and Will’s jaw went slack, submissive under Tom’s hands. They held eye contact as Tom inhaled the smoke before blowing it back into Will’s open mouth. His boyfriend gasped slightly, the smoke disappearing into his mouth. Tom let his eyes travel down to Will’s lips. Tom placed the blunt in between Will’s lips, waiting for him to inhale.

Will’s lips closed around the white paper of the joint and his eyes fluttered shut. His chest rose as he inhaled. Tom pulled it out and didn’t wait for him to exhale before connecting their lips once again. The taste of Will and the acrid smoke was something Tom found himself enjoying a little too much. The smoke itself wasn’t quite pleasant, but Tom wasn’t going to pull away from Will because of it. He held the burning joint in one hand, cupping Will’s face with the other. 

When they separated, a small huff of grey air blew steadily out of Will’s mouth as his eyes fluttered open. It was quite a flustering sight for Tom, and he distracted himself by taking another drag. It burned his lungs, made his tongue feel dry and scratchy but he honestly didn’t mind. Will leaned his head forward, resting his forehead against Tom’s shoulder. They looked out onto the cherry trees and the blue, cloudless sky.

It was all so beautiful, but Tom knew it didn’t compare to Will. He looked down and saw Will’s eyes gleaming with happiness. He loved Tom, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it yet. He felt it deep down, from the way his body filled with chills when Tom said his name to the tightness in his chest and electricity in his hands, the adrenaline rush he got from just thinking about Tom. How giddy he felt constantly, like he was walking on air. Just like before, Tom was a drug and Will was addicted. Addicted to the highs he got every day, the ones that caused him to smile for no reason, that made him want to yell that he was in love, that there was one man on his mind all the time, and it was Tom Blake. 

Everything reminded him of Tom in the best way, everything felt soft and sweet. There wasn’t a day that would go by that Will didn’t think of Tom. Everything made Will think of him: the books on his shelf, the songs on the radio. He loved Tom even if he wasn’t going to say it out loud. Or rather, even if he wasn’t going to say it to Tom. Will whispered it every night into his pillow. 

‘Thomas blake. Tom Blake. Tom. My Tom. I like him. I love him. I love him.’ He repeated the list every night, every morning, whenever he found himself getting anxious. It was like they were made for each other. Two opposing sides of a magnet, drawn together. Stuck together. They both knew it was going to take a lot to separate them. They felt connected on a different level than platonic love, deeper than romantic love. Something unexplainable, indefinable. It was simply Will and Tom, Tom and Will, made for one another. 

“Toto,” he whispered, gaze traveling up and down Tom’s upper body, from the curvature of his spine to the twitch of his eyebrows when Will said his name. He leaned over, kissing him. It was sloppy but passionate, the yearning palpable behind the inexperience. Tom’s hands fell to Will’s hips and he gasped slightly, parting his lips, and Tom smirked against Will’s mouth. They pulled away for air, foreheads pressed together as they breathed in sync.

“I don’t think I feel it,” he started to giggle uncontrollably, “What?”

Tom giggled too, and they laughed loudly together. “No, I think it’s working.” He said through breathless laughs. Will let his head lull forward slightly, suddenly feeling heavy. Tom’s soft hands met his hand, tilting Will’s eyes to meet his. They held eye contact for a moment before they once again fell into a fit of howling laughter. Will was laughing at nothing and everything at the same time. Will inhaled more smoke, blowing it gently into Tom’s open mouth this time.

He suddenly felt the floating sensation he thought Tom was talking about. Will felt out of touch with his own body, his fingers and toes tingling. He felt like his brain was moving faster than he could think, but his body was moving in slow motion. Will felt like he should be more worried about this feeling, but he found himself completely relaxed. They both took another hit.

“You’re pretty,” Will heard a voice next to him, and it took a moment to remember that Tom was there, that he wasn’t alone with his thoughts. 

“Hm,” Will hummed, trying to process what was said to him, “I’m not pretty, Toto, girls are pretty.”

“I think boys can be pretty too, because you are the prettiest boy I’ve seen.” Tom laughed at nothing again, planting a sloppy kiss on Will’s cheek. Will nudged him away, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s definitely working.”

Tom chuckled and flopped over Will’s shoulder, burying his face into the crook of Will’s neck. Will giggled and rubbed his back softly. He held Tom on his lap for another few minutes before they had to go and throw the half-smoked joint into the trees near the back of the orchard. Tom handed Will two pieces of gum and sprayed some awful smelling cologne on them to mask the smell. They walked back to the house hand in hand until Mama Blake was in sight. They did their usual catching up as she walked Will to the front of the house and helped him gather his things. He gave Tom a small wave with his middle and pointer finger, the fingers he used to hold the blunt. Tom grinned slyly, his eyes crinkling.

-

Will trudged up to his house, his usual fatigue increased more than normal. He was so zoned out and tired that he didn’t realize his mother was standing in the kitchen, waiting by the phone expectedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit is about to hit the fan :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: physical and verbal abuse...

“Oh my fucking god, William! Where have you been?!” she exclaimed and ran over to him, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Mum!” he exclaimed, eyes going wide. “Why- why- why are you here? I thought you were at work?” 

She paused, gripping his arms tighter as she leaned in slightly. Her brow deepened, stained red lips in a completely flat line. His mother inhaled through her nose. “Have you been smoking? First you’re sneaking out of the house, not home when I get here, and now you’re smoking marijuana?” Her voice rose, and Will had no choice but to stand there and take it. He cowered as she yelled, trying to keep his stone-faced composure.

“Mum, I’m very sor-”

“Sorry will not work on me, William! I called your school and practically half the town looking for you. I almost called the police! Do you know how fucking humiliating this is for me? You are sixteen years old!”

Of course, Will thought, She’s only mad because it embarrassed her, not because she was actually worried. Wouldn’t have expected any less.

Will bit the inside of his cheek as his mother yelled and scolded him. Each word cut deeper and deeper and slowly tore him apart. 

After a half hour of standing there, his mother sent Will to his room to wait for his father. He trembled as he climbed the stairs, terrified and numb. There was no way to mentally prepare himself for the forthcoming punishment and embarrassment. Will dropped his bag at the door, and sat on the edge of his bed. Another thirty minutes passed, and his father still wasn’t home. From the sounds of it downstairs, Mrs. Schofield was trying to contact him and say that Will was home, but she wasn’t able to get in contact with him.

Dread seeped through Will’s blood, making his heart pound in his chest the sound reverberated back into his ears. His heartbeat was so loud in his ears he almost missed the sound of a door slamming downstairs. Will’s chest tightened to where he could barely breathe. His nails dug into the skin on his arms to distract him from the tears swelling in his eyes.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. He had seven steps to go.

Will wiped his eyes, trying to take deep breaths. Every step was matched with blood pulsing in his ears.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Four to go.

Three,  
Two,  
One.

His door flew open, a blur when his father ran to him and got up in his face. The words he was screaming flowed together to incoherent noises. Will couldn’t tell if the wetness on his face was tears or his father’s saliva. The man was red in the face mouth talking a mile a minute, spit flying everywhere. Name after name, insult after insult. Liar, stupid, a dissapointment, an asshole. The list went on and on. He screamed bloody nonsense, going on and on about how sons should act and how they should respect their fathers and mothers. Will’s body filled with rage, and he shot up from the bed. Blood pumped in his ears and his voice rose as he screamed at his father.

“I have never once disrespected you. I want to live my life a-”

He was cut off by a slap in the face, something his father had never done before. Only a moment of surprise before he was slapped again. In a daze, he tried to push past his father and run out his bedroom door. He only got a step out of his door before his dad grabbed Will by his wrists, backing him up and pinning him down onto his bed. Will fought and cried, tried to break free or kick his legs, but his father was too strong. They were two feral creatures. 

Hot tears poured out of Will’s eyes continuously, like a waterfall. He wondered where his mother was, why she wasn’t here to help him. Mr. Schofield held him down, screaming at him until he cried for him to stop, begged for forgiveness. He held his wrist tighter, twisting it partially at an angle that drew a pained whimper out of his son. Will reached for his father's hand to release him, but the man simply spat at him. 

“No son of mine will ever act this way again, do you understand me? Unless you want to be out there on the streets, YOU WILL SAY YOU UNDERSTAND ME!” he cried, turning Will’s wrist harder.

“Agh! Yes- yes, sir! Please let me go, please!” he sobbed, and his father released his grip. Will sank to the floor and cried uncontrollably. He held his wrist, red finger marks showing on his pale skin. He wished he never changed to that stupid class and never joined that stupid play and never met Tom. He immediately felt guilty that he was blaming Tom in any way for this, and Will took it back. Tom had nothing to do with it. It was Will’s own fault, he could have said no to anything along the way, but he’d just went along with it.

You’re a bloody fucking idiot, is what you are! You hear me? You are nothing without me and your mother and this is how you repay us? We feed you, we put a roof over your head and you think you can do whatever you want? That you can just go over to someone’s house every day and smoke it up all the time? Is that all we are to you? Just a place to stay? A hand that feeds you? Well look what you’ve done, you stupid bastard, you bit at the hand that feeds you and now you get to suffer the consequences. 

The words rang in his ears, fresh from his father's mouth. ‘Bloody fucking idiot’. ‘Nothing’. ‘Stupid bastard’. They were all true. Everything his father said was true. He was a terrible son, an even worse person. The thought of Tom had returned, and Will was angry that Tom had chosen him instead of some other bloody idiot. All of this would have never happened if Will had just ignored Tom, focused on his studies like his parents wanted him to. 

Will stayed in his room the rest of the night, staring at the wall while leaning against the foot of his bed. He didn’t cry, didn’t speak. Just sit and stared. No food, no water. Eventually, he fell asleep on the floor, feeling like he didn’t deserve to sleep in his bed. Will’s dreams were plagued by his parents’ harsh words. He believed every single one of them.

It was unspoken, but he knew he couldn’t go back to Tom’s house. Will knew his parents couldn’t see him with Tom or they would surely do something to separate them. Claim that Tom was a bad influence, or something of that nature. Will just couldn’t lose his one and only friend, the person he needed this soon after falling in love. 

-

The day coming back to school was the hardest. He knew he had to tell Tom that he couldn’t come back to their treehouse for a long while. The one place Will felt safe, taken away from him so quickly. Tom’s huge smile and excitement to see Will didn’t help his cause, and he almost teared up. But he suppressed the emotions. As usual, Tom was late and class had already started when he sat down. They listened to Lieutenant Leslie’s lecture. Will wrote a short message on a scrap piece of paper telling Tom what happened.

‘Bad news. Got caught. Not allowed to go over anymore. I’m so sorry.’

He reached over and dropped the note onto Tom’s desk. Tom read it and his smile fell. He looked over at Will, but when he saw the tears in Will’s avoidant eyes he looked away. Tom held his hand out across the row of desks. Reluctantly, Will reached across the aisle and hooked their pinkies together. He smiled for the first time that day.

-

Will thought seeing Tom would be the most difficult thing, but in reality not seeing him was the most painful. He knew his parents wouldn’t be there, but he still couldn’t go over to Tom’s. Will just sat in his room, unable to focus on the heaps of work he had from not finishing it the day before. He forced himself through a silent dinner with his family, then went back upstairs and got ready for bed. Will stared at the wall, thinking about everything his father said to him. He knew he shouldn’t internalize it, his father was a good person who just lost his temper sometimes. Right? He-

Tap... tap... tap.

A gentle tapping on the window, a pebble hitting the panes. Will opened the curtains and the blinds, seeing a figure standing outside his window. The silhouette raised his arm, pinky shaped in a hook. It was Tom. But why was Tom here in the middle of the night? Will opened his window. 

“Tom?” He whisper-yelled.

“Yeah! It’s me! I didn’t wake you, did I?” he yelled up, and Will shushed him. 

“No, of course not. What are you doing here? You know what- I- let me find you a way in.” Will looked around, trying to see where Tom could climb up. Will couldn’t go downstairs, his parents would hear him. He realized there was a tree pretty close to his window. “Tom! Climb up that tree.”

It took a few painstaking minutes before Tom reached anywhere remotely close to the window, but he was eventually at arm’s length. Will leaned out the window, reaching until their fingers touched.

“I’m gonna jump, Will. That’s the only way I can make it,” Tom whispered and nodded towards Will.

“Tom, no! Don’t do that you’ll fall. That’s a stupid idea please d-”

Tom jumped and grabbed onto the windowsill. A small ‘oomph’ left his mouth, but otherwise he was quiet. Will pulled him in, and they fell against his bed. The boys stifled their giggles, looking at each other.

“How did that even work?” Will laughed quietly. “How are you here?”

“Well the thing is- Mum doesn’t know…”

“Tom!” Will exclaimed, punching him in the shoulder. “You could get in more trouble than me!”

The two boys moved to sit on the floor, leaning against Will’s bed. Tom’s back was against Will’s chest, just like it had been when they sat under the cherry tree. Yet, it felt different, tense. So much had changed in the past day, so much that Tom was unaware of. Will’s heart ached as he realized this is exactly where he fell asleep the previous night. But now he was okay. He was with Tom. Tom, who fit so perfectly in his lap, whose gentle fingers made a small shiver go up Will’s spine. 

“I couldn’t not spend time with you,” Tom answered. Will wrapped his arms around Tom, holding him close.

“I know. I don’t know how long it’ll be like this, but we can only hope.” He smiled weakly, then kissed Tom’s forehead. It brought back the nostalgia of Hamlet, and Will found himself longing for that time again. Things were simpler. 

But at the same time, he was much happier being able to actually kiss Tom instead of longing for it. Will leaned down and pressed another kiss to his forehead, one to his nose, and another one to his lips. Tom smiled, slightly flustered. He stopped. “Let me read to you.”

Will grabbed a random book off his bookshelf. “Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke”. He turned to the last marked page, taking a deep breath before starting to read quietly.  
“Song of the Statue:

Who so loveth me that he  
Will give his precious life for me?  
I shall be set free from the stone  
If some one drowns for me in the sea,  
I shall have life, life of my own,—  
For life I ache.  
I long for the singing blood,  
The stone is so still and cold.  
I dream of life, life is good.  
Will no one love me and be bold  
And me awake?

I weep and weep alone,  
Weep always for my stone.  
What joy is my blood to me  
If it ripens like red wine?  
It cannot call back from the sea  
The life that was given for mine,  
Given for Love's sake.”

Tom breathed in sync with Will, he hummed with his eyes closed. He was completely lost in Will’s low voice, the words bleeding out of him. 

“I- I was never really able to explain why I like that poem so much. But I think I know now.” Will stroked Tom’s hair and kissed the crown of his head. 

Tom reached up behind him and put his hand on Will’s face. Will leaned into it, needing nothing more than affection from Tom. Tom turned around and slotted his knees in between Will’s legs. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss into Will’s jaw, one on his cheek, and finally one on his lips. Tom moved to lean Will’s head down to his lap, petting his hair.

“Shhhh, love. Just relax,” Tom whispered. “Close your eyes.” Will’s hair was really, really soft. It was getting long, curling up from the nape of his neck. Tom curled it around his fingers, combing through the small knots. Will nestled his head more into Tom’s lap, sighing happily. 

“Goodnight. Thanks for stopping by,” he whispered into Tom’s thighs. Before Tom could respond, Will was fast asleep, snoring slightly. After another half-hour of Tom caressing Will’s hair, he threw a blanket over him and climbed out the window, out to the tree and back home. Once again, Will slept on the floor, but this time it was thoughts of Tom that encircled his sleeping mind.

-

Over the span of two weeks, Tom comes to Will’s house after dark around five times. They read or talk, fall asleep together, then early in the morning Will’s watch would beep and alert him that it was time for Tom to go home. They didn’t mind staying up late or waking up early, as long as they got to see each other. 

This night was no different than the others, Will was tucked under Tom’s arm as he read ‘The Tao of Pooh’ aloud. They had done this for the past two days, getting around 100 pages in. They would switch who was reading each day. One would read until the other fell asleep or said they wanted to go to sleep. Often, they would get off the topic of the book and start talking about something different. Today, Tom was explaining what having siblings is really like.

“As long as we don’t get caught, there’s no rules. One time I pissed off Joe and he threw away my favorite shirt. I told mum on him and he got grounded. Got so mad that he punched me. Had a bruise on my cheek for a few days. I learned that I just had to get him back instead of leaving it up to me mum.”

Will was appalled. “How do you guys hate each other so much?”

“Oh it’s not hate. I’m telling you, that’s what siblings do.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. 

Will raised Tom’s hand up and pressed their palms together, comparing their hands. “Your hands are so small, no wonder your brother beat you in every fight.” Will’s fingertips were able to wrap around the top of Tom’s hands, but Tom pushed him away.

“If you’re going to insult me, you don’t get my hands. And besides, it’s not like Joe weighed forty pounds heavier than me and was a whole head taller than me,” he joked sarcastically, taking Will’s hands in his own. He suddenly sobered up, no longer joking. “How are you going to tell your parents? About us? We can’t keep sneaking around every night, and you’re not happy being at the house the whole time.”

Will sighed. Tom had tried to bring this up many times in the past few days, but he’d always brushed it off. He pulled Tom close, not wanting to let go. He didn’t want to risk his parents not supporting him and never being able to see Tom again. But, at the same time, if his parents caught them together there was no way he was earning their trust back. Will ran his hands through his hair anxiously. “I don’t know, Tom. I can’t just go up to them and start talking. They’re not like your mom.”

Tom scowled. “Like my mom? What’s that supposed to mean-”

“You know what it’s supposed to mean,” Will stated firmly, “My dad he- he hit me the other night. Just a slap.”

Tom turned around and sat up, holding Will’s face in his hands. “Bloody hell, what?”

“It didn’t hurt that bad,” Will lied. He could still feel the stinging welt when his father made eye contact with him.

Tom’s thumbs brushed over each of his cheekbones, pity in his eyes. Will felt humiliated; he didn’t want Tom;s pity.

““I know things seem hard right now,” Tom whispered, still holding Will’s face, “I know I don’t have any idea what you’re going through but I want you to try and give your parents a chance. I know they love you, maybe they just need a way to show it.”

“Look, I’ll try. I will.”

“If they don’t, you can just stay at our house. We can run away together.” 

Will knew he was only joking, but the possibility of his parents not accepting him terrified him. Would his dad yell at him? Slap him again?

“I guess so,” he mumbled, the mood ruined. Tom hadn’t even officially met Will’s parents, only seen his dad angry once. But fine, for the sake of all of Will’s relationships, he would give his parents a chance. No, He thought, not both of them. Maybe only mum. She’s the only one I really trust. So he planned to tell his mother. If she reacted negatively he would take it back and not tell his father. He hoped that giving them a chance would allow them to give him the time of day.

-

Will watched Tom sleep, his steady breathing, his fluttering eyelashes. His face looked so precious, so peaceful, but Tom was a crazy sleeper. He flopped around and threw his arms, kicked his legs. The only was Tom would stop flailing was if he was on his side and Will’s arm was holding him in place. Will would gently place his arm across Tom’ waist and pull him so close that his hair tickled Will’s nose. 

Tom’s hair smelled like a spring day, the soft, sweet, floral scent. Will almost couldn’t explain it, the closest word to describe how he felt for Tom was how one feels for the smell of petrichor. Petrichor was a word Will learned a few years back, it was the smell of freshly fallen rain. Tom made him feel like he was dancing in the rain, spinning around with his arms thrown open, feeling free. Will felt this feeling deep in his heart, how connected they were. Will wondered if what he felt was love, but he was scared that Tom didn’t feel as passionately as he did, so he stopped thinking about it.

-

When his watch beeped around 5 am, Will woke Tom up. 

“Tommy, wake up.” He shook Tom’s shoulder, leaning down towards his face. He pressed kisses on his forehead, his temple, his cheeks and eyelids, all the way down to his lips. Finally, his eyes fluttered open.

“Hi,” Tom said groggily, voice deep and husky with sleep. Tom was always a night owl, preferring to stay up all night and sleep all morning, whereas Will thrived in the morning. He loved the quiet chirp of birds and the sun peeking out behind the clouds smearing the sky with pastels. It was peaceful to him, and laying in his bed with Tom made him so much happier than he ever thought he would have been this year.

“Hey there, Pooh Bear,” Will whispered, offering a smile. Tom buried his head back in the pillow.

“Be quiet, Dr. Seuss,” Tom groaned.

“Wow, my own boyfriend doesn’t appreciate my names. What a cruel world we live in.” He nudged Tom again. “Lovebug, you have to get up and go home. Or else we will get in trouble.”

Tom groaned quietly, leaning against Will’s chest. “But I don’t wanna…”

“You say that every morning. Let’s go. Get up.” Tom relented, rolling off the bed. He pulled his shirt on and gave Will a quick kiss before going to the window. He opened it and groaned, not stepping out.

“I wanna stay with youuuuu,” he whined, dragging out the last word.

“I know, but you have to leave.” Will pressed another quick kiss into Tom’s mouth and nudged him to go out the window. 

He watched as Tom jumped and climbed out of the tree, running off towards the main road to the bus stop. The first stop was at 5:30, and Tom would be climbing back into his own window by 6. 

Will sat down at his desk, shoving aside the unfinished homework assignments. Ripping out a page of notebook paper, he started to write a letter to his mother.

Hi, No, that was too… weird. He crossed it out and started again. 

Dear mum,  
I’m writing this letter to tell you something important. I’m

Will froze. He had never written it down, not even spoke the words out loud. Those two words. So simple, yet so life changing. He took a deep breath and wrote it.

gay. I like men. I have for a while now. I think I’ve always liked them, I’ve never had a girlfriend, never really fancied girls. It is something that has taken me a great deal of time to come to the conclusion of and accepting myself has been a long and difficult road. I love you, and I know you love me. My only wish is for you to accept me for who I am. Who I choose to love has no affect on you. The person to whom I have taken a strong liking to is a boy named Thomas Blake. He is a smart and funny and kind person and he somehow likes me more than I like him. You may recognize him as the boy who played Hamlet when we did the show, the boy whose forehead I kissed. After that show he confessed his feelings for me. He kissed me

Again, he stopped. Maybe telling your parents that you where gay and have kissed a boy in the same letter wasn’t the best idea, especially not knowing how they’d react. 

After that show he confessed his feelings for me. Since then we have been romantically involved. I know that I have lied to you and snuck around behind your back, and I sincerely apologize. I have been fearing how you will react to this letter. It has been eating me up inside. But I have decided that I don’t want to hide things and lie to you anymore. I will take whatever punishment I get for lying, but being honest with you and to myself about who I am and who I love and being punished for that will not be accepted. As my mother, you are supposed to care and nurture me, no matter who I am. 

I am giving you this letter before school so you have time to think over this and form your thoughts, and we can talk about it when we get home. 

I love you very much, and I can only hope you take this positively. And please wait until I am home to tell dad about this.

Your son,  
Will

He found an envelope and folded it closed securely, placing it on his mother’s night table. Then he got dressed and headed off to school.

Waiting was the worst part. He told Tom what he did and to not come back that night in case things got messy. Tom gave him a secret kiss behind the stone arch before they went their separate ways.

-

Will walked into the house to see his mother sitting at the dinner table, hands resting on the letter. His father was nowhere in sight.

“I’m guessing we have something to talk about?” Will offered quietly, a small smile trying to lighten the tense energy in the room.

“I think we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont look at me this wasnt me projecting shhhhh


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short one for today :)

“William, your letter.... It definitely took me by surprise.” His mother laughed nervously and stood up slowly. Mrs. Schofield stood next to Will, looking up at him. Will squeezed his eyes shut, ready for the worst. He regretted his decision, mad that he convinced himself that his mother would support him. After a moment of hesitation, she took her son's hand. He gripped her hand for the first time in almost six years. He was terrified. She could tell, the tears in his eyes and his grip on her hand.

“I love you. I support you.” 

Tears spilled out, and an animalistic sound escaped from his throat. Will leapt at his mother and enveloped her in a hug. He held onto her for dear life, tears falling down his cheeks like a waterfall. He wiped the tears and snot away and looked up at his mother.

“I know I haven’t been the ideal mother, and I don;t want to make excuses for myself. After seeing how your father acted the other night I just-” She started to get choked up, taking a moment to pull herself together before continuing, “I can’t let this happen anymore. I’ve talked to a few friends and I-”

“Are you getting a divorce?” Will interrupted, eyes wide. The silence between them dragged on, but he got the message.

“I am talking to your father tonight,” Mrs.Schofield reached up, wrapping her arms around Will’s shoulders, “God, Will, I’m so sorry. I really am. I’m so proud of you for this.” She took his face in her hands, pressing an awkward kiss to his forehead. “No matter how your father reacts to any of this, I love you so much. No matter who you love. I want to meet this Thomas… friend of yours.”

“Of course, mum. I think you’d like him.” Will smiled, suddenly content with his choice. 

-

Will went over to the Blake’s house the following school day. But this time, instead of unlinking their hands at the doorway, they walked in proudly. 

“Hey mum, we’re home,” Tom announced, walking hand-in-hand with Will to the kitchen. Mama Blake eyed them suspiciously. “Also, I’m comin’ out to you! I am bisexual. I like girls and boys. But… but right now, Will is the boy I like.”

“Oh, so that’s what has been going on between you two? Mhm that makes sense. And the treehouse? What’s that all about?”

Tom’s face flushed red and Ms. Blake grinned. “Mum, I-”

“You can go in the treehouse, but please don’t traumatize the cherry trees. Leave your bedroom door open, none of… that in here. You boys are too young.” Tom and Will groaned, covering their red faces. “I’m being serious! But, Toto, I love you. Thank you for telling me. I know it’s probably been difficult.”

“Love you too, mum.” Tom rolled his eyes, smiling.

“Will, have you told your family yet?”

“Yes, ma’am. Just told my mum last night. She took it… surprisingly well. She wants to meet you and Tom sometime soon.” He smiled, squeezing Tom’s hand.

“Well if that’s the case, invite her over for dinner tomorrow night! I was gonna make chicken, I’m sure your mother would be okay with that?” She cocked her head, identical to how Tom did when he was asking a question.

“Oh- uh, yes. I can ask her tonight.”

“Of course! Now you boys get out of my kitchen, go! Scram!”

-

Mrs. Schofield agreed to go to Blake's house for dinner, her one agreement being that Will dress nicely. As if he hasn’t been going over to their house every day for the past four months. But Will dressed in his button up shirt and his nice pants and combed his hair back. Luckily, Mrs. Blake made Tom do the same thing. Tom wore a polo shirt and had his hair parted to the side. They giggled at each other when they walked in. The families sat down at the table and Mama Blake served tea and made small talk. Tom and Will sat next to each other and whispered about their mothers, what they were saying and thinking. 

“So, Tom, tell us about yourself.” Mrs. Schofield cleared her throat when the small talk died down.

“Wh-oh- Well. I’m in year twelve, I do theatre and art, and I really like your son.” Will’s ears turned red and he tried to suppress a smile. 

“That’s good to hear… what kind of art do you do?” she asked, leaning forward slightly. 

“Well I do mostly pencil sketches, but sometimes I do paintings or sculptures. That bowl right there is one that I made.” he pointed to a fruit bowl sitting on a side table in the living room.

“I didn’t know that,” Will whispered, but Tom shushed him by holding his hand under the table. Will flushed again. 

Mama Blake set down the plates of food and took her seat.

“Shall we pray?” she asked, holding out her hands invitingly. Will and his mother exchanged glances, neither of them religious. She shrugged and joined hands with Ms. Blake. Will kept his hand connected with Tom’s

Ms. Blake started her prayer: “Dear heavenly father, we thank you for this wonderful food and these wonderful children. We thank you for loving and spreading love through every person. We thank you for bringing our families together, for making our sons happy. I ask that you bring love and prosperity to the Schofield’s home.” Tom squeezed Will’s hands and they popped their eyes open to look at each other. Both boys smiled widely, keeping their fingers intertwined. They knew their happiness would prosper.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapter!! shorter than i would have hoped but... whatever

The first day of summer came quickly, and before they knew it Tom and Will were laying with each other in the treehouse, looking out on the Blake’s orchard. The last pitiful cherry blossoms brushing against the grass. The air was humid, making a line of sweat drip down Will’s neck.

“This year has been crazy. I’m so glad I met you.” Will smiled over at Tom, who grinned and nudged him in the shoulder.

After dinner with the Blake’s, Will came out to his father with the help of Mrs. Schofield. When Mr. Schofield became angry, Mrs. Schofield stepped in and told him that his abuse wouldn’t be tolerated anymore, and that he could leave if he wouldn’t accept their son. He was gone within an hour, taking a car and a bag and leaving the house.

As distressing as it initially was, Will handled it relatively well. The last he’d heard, his father was living in his office downtown, which Will was perfectly fine with. For all the emotional turmoil Mr. Schofield caused his family, he deserved to be living out of his office. Two months of therapy later, and Will was the happiest he had ever been.

“You make me so happy, Toto,” Will grinned.

Tom blushed, leaning over the hammock to press a kiss to Will’s mouth. They pulled away and he put his hand on Will’s chest while standing up, balancing himself. Will’s heartbeat quickened, as it always did when Tom touched him. Tom would sometimes press his fingers against the skin on Will’s wrist, feeling his pulse. The steady rhythm always calmed him, always made him laugh when it inevitably sped up ever so slightly. Tom tried feeling his own pulse, but it didn’t have the same effect. When his fingers felt the repetitive thump, thump, thump of Will’s heart, he imagined his heart beating for Tom. Tom felt as though his heart was beating for Will. It just made sense to him. 

They stood up from the hammock, making their way out to the make-shift porch. As usual, Will climbed down the ladder while Tom threw himself over the wooden railing of the balcony. He landed on the soft grass with a grunt, holding his hands out in front of him to balance. As always, Will scoffed and said,

“Are you going to do that every time?” 

“You ask that every day, and my answer is always the same. Yes!” Tom laughed loudly, throwing his arm around Will’s shoulders.

“So, Toto, why did you bring me out here?” Will asked, shrugging Tom's arm off his shoulder in fake annoyance. 

“Come with me.” And he was racing away. 

The two shot through the rows of trees like animals. Blurs of trees in their periphery, the boys only focused on each other. They laughed and yelled joyously, jumping and knocking into one another. It was pure happiness, childhood wonder and teenage carelessness all wrapped into one. They felt alive, the dopamine and adrenaline of running so quickly all of the sudden shooting to their brains like a drug. 

Looking over at Will’s face, Tom thought about how he wanted it to stay like this forever. He wanted Will by his side, always there with him to laugh or cry or yell into oblivion. Leaves crunched under their shoes, the cries of last year’s nature showing them that change is inevitable. That in a year’s time, you may not have what you have right now. May not feel what you feel right now. In a year, you may be rotting on the floor, crunchy and brown. So live the life you want. Live life as a freshly budding green leaf, not one dreading the day it falls from the tree. 

A loose switch slapped Will across the face hard, making them collapse with laughter. A bright pink welt was forming on his face, but before he had time to react Tom was scaling the tree next to him. Will joined his boyfriend, grabbing the dame branches he did, following his lead. Will would always follow his lead. 

One step at a time, one branch then another. They climbed, up, up, up. Together. When the branches got thin and frail and couldn’t support them anymore, they stopped and breathed, looking at the horizon. Will felt a hand grab his, lifting their arms above their head

“Will and Tom will live forever!” Tom screamed at the top of his lungs, out into the setting sun.

“Will and Tom forever!” Will yelled with pride. The boys laughed until their stomachs hurt, until tears fell out of their eyes like they had just told the greatest joke ever. They were in this together, friends until they couldn't be, until their paths in life became weak and broken like the tiny twigs at the top of the tree. But for now, for now they had a sturdy branch to hold them up and a shoulder to lean on if they fell off balance. 

Even if the skies grew dark and the winds threatened to blow them away, the boys would just hold each other's hands and scream their names into the void. Because what their meaning of life was didn’t matter to anyone, just as long as they were living. Will lived for Tom, lived for the thrill he gave him. Only with Tom could he run into a field of trees and climb the tallest one. Only with Tom could they shout triumphantly at the universe. You may not see it, but I’m here. I matter to someone! I matter to him. I matter! I’m here! I exist! Only with Tom did Will ever feel truly alive.

When their lips connected up in the tree, carefree and energetic, sparks flew between them. Not sparks- stars. The stars themselves where the only thing Will thought were good enough for Tom, the only things that did him justice. Their bright light ebbed and flowed, pouring into and out of every inch of each other’s bodies, consuming them. Bright light flooded their brains and their eyes and their hearts. They felt free, liberated. Touching, kissing in such a way as they were. A way that was seen as sinful and wrong to so many, but that felt so true and right to them. It felt like they were meant to be together. 

Two teenagers, unlike each other in so many ways, yet fit so snuggly. As if their hearts were made out of puzzle pieces, only made for one another. What they felt for each other wasn’t explicitly romantic love, no. It was felt on a much deeper level. Tom’s heart swelled when he heard Will’s name, his entire body filling with that soaring feeling while just being around Will. The words couldn’t leave Tom’s brain- alive; free. It was fate that he landed here. 

That would be the only thing that brought the two boys into the same class on the same day, the only thing that made them feel that connection instantly. The deep infatuation with one another seemingly coming out of nowhere. They knew each other better than anyone in the world, made each other better people. Even when nobody else was there, when they felt like the universe itself had given up on them, Blake and Schofield were there for each other. Side by side, believing in the other one when no one else did, when no one else would. 

Will believed that no matter what happened, no matter what Tom or Will’s parents or the universe itself did to push them apart, they would always be binded, always connected to one another. That no matter what problems they were thrown, Thomas Blake and William Schofield would love each other. And nothing would change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for reading!! i put a lot into this and i hope it was somewhat enjoyable :)


End file.
